The Defenders
by kaufmanl
Summary: The world has lived in peace for almost 30 years. No longer needed, The Avengers have parted ways, gotten married, and had kids. Now, S.H.I.E.L.D. has decided they must be ready for the next threat. But the Avengers are old, and out of practice. It's time for a new team, their children; Stella Stark, Chase Barton, Nick Rogers, and Bellona Banner. Sort of AU, because it's a 2nd gen.
1. Chapter 1: Stella Stark

**Hey! This is just something me and my friends have been thinking about for a while. I have about three chapters written, so let me know if I should continue!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers. I do own my original characters, though, Stella and Chase. **

* * *

Tony was pretty sure it meant life was absolutely perfect when you couldn't decide which day was the best day of your life. Granted, he probably couldn't choose the _worst_ day of his life either, but that didn't matter. What did matter was that he had two best days of his life, and how many people got to say that?

The first best day of his life was when he married Pepper. The Avengers hadn't avenged in at least five years, nor had the world been in mortal peril, so he figured he was safe to settle down and start a real, normal, crazy-alien-supervillain-free life. Marrying Pepper was the first step. They got married in the summer, and it wasn't in a church, because neither of them were really tight with God. They got married at S.H.I.E.L.D. Most of their friends worked there, anyway, and Nick Fury wasn't bad at officiating a wedding ceremony. The Avengers were all there. Steve had some girl with him, and come to think of, she wasn't really "some girl". They were married. Tony had gone to the wedding. It had taken him a few minutes to recognize her as the cute blonde waitress they'd saved in the final battle against Loki. Natasha and Clint came, finally an open couple, and ended up marrying a year later. Tony was invited to that wedding, too. He pinned the invitation up on his bulletin board with other things that proved he had friends. Bruce was there, with no significant other, although he shared that he was in the process of adopting a daughter. Overall, it was a perfect night. Pepper looked beautiful. Everyone had fun. Tony and Pepper had _lots_ of fun.

All that fun eventually led to Stella.

The day Pepper told Tony she was pregnant was a good day, but not the best in his life. He'd been a little scared, actually, when he'd found out. Of course, he'd hidden it under layers of sarcasm and general Tony-Starkness, but he was terrified. Mostly because he figured there was no one on earth that would make a shittier father than him. Except maybe Bruce. (He could see it now. "Clean your room!" Bruce would order. "No!" His unfortunate child would reply. "AAAAARRRRGHHHH! HULK SMASH!" Bruce would say.)

"Awesome," Tony had said, "there's a little Tony Jr. in your stomach."

"No," Pepper had instantly replied, "we're not naming it 'Tony Jr.'. Besides, what if it's a girl?"

"Good point," He admitted, looking away for a moment to think. Then his head snapped back up. "Antonia."

"No," Pepper repeated. "Don't you want her to have her own name? She's going to have a hard enough time making an identity for herself, what with being Iron Man's daughter and all. Shouldn't her name at least be all her own?"

"Yeah, that makes sense," Tony relented. "But I'm making her a suit. Not iron, of course, that's my thing. And she'll have different colors. Blue and black, I think. Steel! Her suit'll be steel. 'Steel Girl'. Sounds good, don't you think?"

"Steel," Pepper mused, "then we'll call her Stella. Stella 'Steel' Stark."

"I like that," Tony agreed. "And, you know, 'Stella' means 'star'. And 'Stark' means 'bright'. So her name is 'Star Bright'." Pepper smiled. "But what if it's a boy?" He asked. She sighed.

"Fine," She relented, "then he can be Tony Jr." Tony had punched the air in triumph, but really, he was hoping for a girl. He didn't want a little clone of himself, bearing his name and wearing a metal robot suit just like his. He wanted someone all her own. He wanted an all-new addition to his family. He wanted Stella Stark.

He got Stella. She was born on the second best day of his life (Not second best like runner-up to the best, but second best as in an additional best.), February 19, 2028, at precisely 16.5 inches and 7 pounds, which was on the lighter side, but he thought she was perfect. She grew up sassy and intelligent, just like him, but with a kind side that came from her mother. Tony had her suit built by her second birthday, and by her fourth, she had already saved her first day. When she was five, she toddled into his lab and told him bluntly, "I don't want to be 'Steel Girl'. It's narrow-minded. You don't know who I'll end up being. I'm too young for you to be forcing gender roles on me." He hid his laughter and told her she could be just Steel, which she liked. Then they built a nuclear bomb for S.H.I.E.L.D. together, for some daddy-daughter bonding.

It was all downhill from there.

Pepper was diagnosed with osteosarcoma when Stella was five. Tony was forty-one, and Pepper was forty. The doctors told Tony that Pepper had localized osteosarcoma, which meant she had an 80% chance of survival. Tony was a genius. He should've told the doctor he knew that already, or offered to build them something to help. Instead, he just said, "Okay," and squeezed Stella's hand.

Pepper had told him not to worry. She told Stella it was "just a little bump". It wasn't. It was a tumor. But Pepper stayed optimistic, and sure enough, after many rounds of chemo and a few months, the doctors declared Pepper's tumor gone. They warned him they couldn't say she was "cured", because no one was ever "cured", but as far as they knew, the threat had been taken care of. Pepper still had to go for X-ray's and check-ups, but life was much better. The clouds of worry had lifted. The Starks could go back to their care-free, happy, normal lives.

They did so until a month or so after Stella's sixth birthday, when Pepper came home with bad news: it was back. It was worse. And it was everywhere.

They tried. Tony made sure they tried. But it was painful for Pepper and painful for Tony and confusing and sad for Stella, and all in all, it was futile. Pepper was admitted to hospice in November of 2034, where she lasted another month. She died on Christmas, which just seemed like a sick, painful punch in the face from fate, because that was Pepper's favorite holiday.

Tony was forty-two. Stella was six. And Pepper was dead.

Stella's dad didn't go out much. In fact, he hadn't gone out for around eleven years. He came home that Christmas night, when she was six and he was forty-two and her mother was dead, and he never went back out. He stayed in Stark Tower for eleven years. Stella was seventeen now. Tony was fifty-three. The world was eleven years older than when Tony last saw it. But he never came out.

He would ask her a lot if it bothered her. She always said no. Maybe she did wish he would get out there, because she was tired of the outlandish rumors about what he'd been doing for eleven years, but she didn't want to hurt him. Facing the world again, after eleven years alone, would hurt him. So she told him, "Of course not. You're a recluse. It's cool. It's mysterious." Besides, Stella was allowed out. She went out all the time. One of her favorite pastimes was beating up muggers with her best friend, Chase Barton. There were plenty of muggers in New York. They didn't have to look for long.

Chase was fifteen, two years younger than Stella, but still her closest friend. His parents were Hawkeye and the Black Widow, and they happened to live in the apartment building next to Stark Tower. Her dad had never told her this, but she knew he'd asked Aunt Natasha to move there. She was supposed to be Stella's mother figure. And she was. Stella loved Natasha.

Chase and Stella had both been trained by Chase's two assassin/spy parents, and on top of that, Stella had a kick-ass suit. She was a lethal mix of Iron Man and the Black Widow. As for Chase, he'd taken after his father, and was a pretty amazing archer. Together, Stella and Chase were unstoppable. Tony would often design simulations for them to practice on, and Natasha and Clint would come over to watch them do it. The first time, Stella had caught a snippet of their conversation.

"Look at them, mercilessly killing people with so much skill," Clint had mused.

"I know," Natasha sighed, "they're just like us." The two had fist-bumped. Stella stopped watching then, because she was about to get shot by a simulated enemy. Maybe Stella was kick-ass and would be a great asset to the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate, but she had no interest in working for S.H.I.E.L.D. Her dad had worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. And she didn't want to be just like her dad. It was a problem she often faced.

Another problem was school. It wasn't her grades. Stella was a genius, just like her dad. Straight A's in everything, especially science and math. No, it was the other kids. Stella's dad was a celebrity, famous for saving the world, and infamous for becoming a recluse after his wife's tragic death. On top of that, her parents were both pretty attractive people. That meant Stella was a pretty attractive person as well. A mild amount of celebrity plus good looks meant Stella got a lot of unwanted attention from the neanderthals at school called "boys".

Stella was at school now. She didn't have many friends, besides Chase. There were a few girls from her AP Math class that sat at her lunch table, and a few of Chase's friends from the archery team, but it was mostly just her and him. Currently, Chase and Stella were pretending to be together. The hope was that their "relationship" would deter Stella's relentless and pig-headed admirer, Duncan. His friends called him "Dunc", which they found hilarious, because he scored a lot of points in basketball, or something. Stella didn't really know. She didn't really care. She didn't think Duncan flirted with her because he really liked her, he just wanted to get under her skin. She could kick his ass, she knew, but she would get detention. So she put up with him.

She was at her locker now. Chase's was pretty far away from hers, since the lockers were organized in alphabetical order by last name, but Duncan's was close. Duncan's last name was Stevens, and hers was Stark. Duncan was approaching her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was wearing long basketball shorts, and his snapback hat was facing sideways. He had red headphones on, resting around his neck. He looked just like your stereotypical douchebag.

"Hey, girl," He greeted her, leaning against the locker next to hers. She took a sharp intake of breath and made a face.

"Ew, Duncan, you smell worse than you just generally are as a person," She told him honestly. He laughed, and his breath was even grosser.

"You're funny, girl."

"My name isn't 'girl'."

"Whatever, girl."

"I'm obviously getting nowhere with you. I have to go to class. Bye, _girl_." He stayed in place for a moment, probably offended that she'd called such a manly man a "girl". And then he followed her.

"I hear you're with Barton," He said.

"Funny how you hear things other people say, but when I say, 'Leave me alone,' you don't seem to understand English," She shoots back.

"So, you're dating a dirty little spy. What would your mother say?" Stella stopped short. Pepper had died eleven years ago, but it never stopped hurting. Maybe she hadn't locked herself away for eleven years, but that didn't mean she wasn't upset. Duncan was pouring salt into an open wound, and it _burned_. "Huh?" Duncan pressed, "What would your mother say?"

Chase punched him in the face.

Stella hadn't even heard him coming, but then, Chase was a spy. She wasn't supposed to hear him coming. Stella screamed at him to stop, because he'd gotten in enough fights and soon he would get suspended, but then Duncan started fighting back. That made it worse, because once Chase was sure he had an opponent, he would never admit defeat. It took him about thirty seconds to get Duncan on the ground, with a loaded bow pointed at his throat. Chase was allowed to have his bow with him at school for archery practice, but he wasn't supposed to have real, pointy arrows. That didn't matter, Chase knew where to hide them. He was a spy. He'd just pulled his current one out of a pocket in his pants Stella hadn't even known was there.

The principal was there within a minute. He hauled Duncan, Chase, and Stella to his office. Stella muttered to Chase that she would take the blame if he wanted, since she wasn't in danger of being suspended. Chase shook his head.

"That's not fair," He replied, "you weren't gonna hit him. I didn't have to hit him. It's my fault."

"But you were defending me," She pointed out.

"And we both know you don't need me to," He countered, "so this is my stupid mistake."

"I don't want you to get suspended."

"I don't mind. I could use a few days away from this place."

"A suspension isn't a vacation, Chase. It'll go on your permanent record. It could influence your college acceptances."

"Who cares? I don't need college. I'm gonna work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

Stella didn't reply to this, because this was the one thing she and Chase could never agree on. She couldn't believe he wanted to work at S.H.I.E.L.D. How could he want a life that belonged to his parents? Didn't he want to make his own way? No, he always said, he liked his parents' lives. He wouldn't mind following in their footsteps.

Duncan, Chase, and Stella were herded into the principal's office. Stella, who the principal identified as a, more or less, neutral party, was given the job of telling the story. She got a look from Chase that told her she wasn't to take responsibility for the fight, so she told the real story. She tried to make Chase look as good as possible.

"...Chase was defending me. Duncan was asking me about my mom." She swallows hard, then continues, "That's inappropriate and rude, and Chase was just giving Duncan what he deserved." In the end, they both got suspended. Duncan for a week, for bullying, and Chase for two, for actual, physical fighting. Stella didn't see Chase much for the rest of the day. They walked home together as usual, and Stella offered to let Chase spend the night at her house.

"Then your parents won't find out," Stella explained, "at least, not today." Chase shrugged.

"They won't care," He replied.

And honestly, they wouldn't. His parents were cool like that. They were different from most parents. They would probably want to hear the details of the fight, like how many people Chase took down and how long it took him to do it. They were weird, but Chase loved them. He loved his weird, kick-ass, one-of-a-kind family.

So Chase and Stella parted ways by his building. She went home to make sure her dad was eating something besides Velveeta ("The shit's liquid gold, Stella. Give it back." "No, Dad. You can't live on Velveeta and whiskey."), and Chase went to break the news to his parents. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, because even though he was fairly sure they wouldn't be mad, his parents were scary as hell when they were. He wanted to get there as slowly as possible. He walked up fifteen flights of stairs, all the way to the top floor. His dad called their home "The Nest", because it was high up and housed a guy named Hawkeye. Once he reached his floor, he stood in front of the door for a moment, before gathering his courage and swinging it open.


	2. Chapter 2: Chase Barton

**Here is chapter 2! I didn't get any reviews, but I got a few follows and favorites, so thanks so much for those! Please review, I love to hear from you guys! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers. That would be cool, though. Really cool. **

* * *

Natasha felt bad saying it, but she had never wanted Chase. She didn't want to be a mother. She had no idea how. But Clint had wanted a kid, and Natasha liked sex with Clint, so they reached a compromise. They weren't going to try. They were just going to not not try. All that not not trying eventually led to Chase.

She knew the other Avengers had kids. Tony and Pepper's daughter was two, as was Bruce's adopted daughter, and Steve's son would've been around three at that point. She and Clint were way behind. But she was fine with that, because she hadn't been planning on having kids at all. Looking back on it, she's glad she did.

The pregnancy process was long and scary for Natasha. She didn't like how much she was eating or how her body bloated, and she especially hated needing so much help with everything. (She did enjoy making Clint be her bitch and forcing him to buy three jars of pickles per week to satisfy her cravings, though. That was fun.) The day of her first ultrasound, she nearly had a panic attack looking at the tiny little person in her belly that she would have to take care of. She wanted to know the gender as soon as possible, because neither she nor Clint liked not knowing things. They were spies, and it was in their nature to need to know everything about a situation.

Clint chose the name. "Chase" meant "hunter", and they both liked that. It was a fierce name for what they hoped would be a fierce kid. Of course, Natasha had wanted to name him something Russian, but that hadn't gone over great with Clint.

"No," He'd immediately shot down Natasha's suggestion, "we're not naming our son _Igor_."

"Why not?" She demanded, "It means 'warrior'. I think that's a good name."

"_Igor_ is what you name a derpy little bespectacled kid, sitting in the back of the class with buckteeth, a lisp, and no friends, who drinks juice boxes all the way up to eleventh grade," Clint argued. "Besides, it sounds like ogre. I will not have a son named 'ogre'."

"Hey, there is a human in _my_ stomach, not yours," She pointed out, "I'm calling the shots."

"If his name is 'Igor', I'll disown him and divorce you," Clint warned.

"I don't need a man," She said firmly, "I've proved that time and time again." Clint came over and wrapped his arms around her from the back, resting his hands on her protruding stomach.

"Maybe not," He admitted, "but do you really want to raise this thing alone?" She'd admitted defeat then. She really didn't want to be a single mother. She wasn't totally jazzed about being any kind of mother. But at least she had Clint. She couldn't lose him.

So, they named him Chase. As the months went on, he took over more and more space in Natasha's stomach. She didn't want to be admitted to the hospital until absolutely necessary. So they waited. They waited right up until her water broke and Natasha went into contractions, and both of their lives changed forever.

* * *

Chase was born on March 17, 2026, making him around two years younger than Stella. It never seemed that way, though. He never felt younger, dumber, or less capable. They were partners, and neither was any better than the other, no matter their ages.

Life was currently pretty good for one Chase Barton. He had amazing parents and an amazing friend and an amazing...whatever Tony was. Uncle, maybe? He wasn't sure. But Chase had a problem. He just didn't think he was that... into girls.

He wasn't entirely sure he was gay. He was only fifteen, so it was probably too early to know. And it wasn't like he was getting hard-ons watching people change in the boys locker room. He wasn't watching people at all in the boys locker room! But he'd just noticed that he wasn't really noticing girls, and he could definitely appreciate when a boy was attractive. And this scared him a little, because, not to sound homophobic or anything, but Chase didn't want to be gay. He had nothing against homosexuality, it just seemed easier to be straight.

But he wasn't going to worry about that. He was too young, anyway. When he was ready to know, he would know. That was the reason he hadn't told anyone, not even Stella. Because, honestly, he was far too young to be sure of his sexual orientation. And he didn't want to know. He wanted to keep having a happy life with happy parents and a relatively happy best friend. (Stella was about as happy as a person with a dead mother and a reclusive father could be.) He wanted no complications upsetting how well everything was going. And this tiny possibility that he might prefer penis was a complication.

He'd never had a girlfriend. He had Stella, obviously, but the idea of dating her was just weird. She was like his sister. And you don't date your sister. He had other friends that were female, mostly from the archery team, but they weren't close. A couple of them sometimes gave him flirty little waves and batted their eyelashes, but he'd never really flirted with any of them. But he'd never had a boyfriend, either. He knew boys. Not that many, but he knew them. Other than Stella, his closest friend was a boy named Carl Baldwin, who was on the archery team with him and always shot at the target next to his. Of course, Chase's was set twenty feet farther back than the rest, but Carl's was the closest. He and Carl didn't talk much outside of archery, but they sat at the same lunch table and sometimes walked to and from practice together. Carl was attractive. Chase could appreciate that. But did that mean he was gay? Well, he would have plenty of time to think about it, now that he was suspended.

Chase swung open the door to "The Nest" and stepped inside. His parents were waiting for him, seated on the couch. His mother was twirling a strand of red hair, wearing tight jeans and a black tank top. His dad, Hawkeye, wore a purple T-shirt and black jeans, with a bow slung over his shoulder. Chase knew his mother had at least three guns hidden within her outfit. She was a spy. Maybe she had more or less given up espionage, but old habits, like concealing firearms in your clothes, die hard.

"So," His mother began, "we heard you got in a fight."

"Yeah," He muttered, "but he was picking on Stella!"

"Stella can take care of herself," His dad pointed out.

"He was talking about Pepper," He argued. His parents still hadn't moved from their stoic, composed positions on the couch.

"We know," His mom said, "and we're not mad." His dad cracked a large grin.

"So, how many people? How long did it take? Did you use that new crescent kick I taught you?" He asked. Chase smiled.

"Only one person. Took about thirty seconds. And yes, I used the crescent kick," Chase answered.

"Did you snap his neck?" Natasha asked.

"No," Chase replied, "I would get expelled."

"Did you at least break any bones?" Clint pressed.

"No," Chase repeated. "I almost shot him, but then the principal got there."

"Too bad," Clint sighed, "that would've been great practice." Chase laughed, and suddenly, his thoughts flew back to boys and girls. He thought about how happy everyone was right now, and how well things were going. His parents loved him and they were proud of him. What if he was gay? What happened then? Would they still love him?

* * *

Lately, Clint had been feeling like Chase was a little distant. Nothing astronomical, of course. Chase loved his parents, and he never really avoided them. He always answered everything and anything they asked him, and he answered fully. He never lied. He knew better than to lie to assassins. Clint couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Chase just seemed a bit…guarded.

As a spy, Clint was good at reading people. He had to be able to tell when people were lying, when they were afraid, or when they were plotting something. And he could read his own son better than most. Chase was an open book. He was hiding something, Clint could tell. There was something he was embarrassed or ashamed or scared about, and he wasn't telling them. He still acted happy, and as far as Clint could tell, he still was happy, but something was bugging him.

He asked Natasha about it after Clint had left to run a simulation with Stella. Or beat up muggers. Or build weapons. He wasn't really sure what his kid was off doing, but he trusted Tony Stark. More or less. At least, he was fairly certain Iron Man wouldn't let his son die.

"Does Chase seem weird to you?" Clint asked casually. He and Natasha were making dinner, which was, as usual, Kraft macaroni. Neither of them could cook.

"How so?" Natasha replied, stirring the fluorescent cheese powder into the boiling water.

"I don't know," Clint admitted, shrugging, "he just seems...distant. Guarded. Like he's hiding something." Natasha nodded.

"Now that you mention it, he kind of does," She agreed. "But he is fifteen."

"What does that mean?"

"He's a teenager, Clint. He's starting to have...teenager problems. Puberty. School drama. Girls. It's probably just a little petty teen thing. There are some things he'll have to handle on his own. Part of being a teenager is not having your parents to help you every step of the way. He's growing up."

"I don't want him to grow up."

"I know. Neither do I."

But at least Chase seemed to like his parents. He wasn't one of those teenagers that was embarrassed by his dad's dumb jokes and asked his mom to drop him off a block away from school. So, comparatively, they had it pretty good. Because a few miles away, in another apartment building out of sight from Stark Tower, Steve Rogers was having some real problems with his son.


	3. Chapter 3: Nick Rogers

**Here's chapter 3! I got my first (and only) review, so thanks so much InsaneKids159 and all of you that read this. Please review!**

**InsaneKids159: Thank you! I'm so glad you like it! As mentioned before, you were my very first review, so thanks again!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers.**

* * *

Steve's first son was stillborn. He'd panicked when he'd found out. He'd been nervous ever since he and his wife decided to have a baby, because he wasn't sure if he even could. What if the serum messed something up? What if she ended up giving birth to some kind of giant, super-strong baby-mutant? What if they got another Hulk for a son? (Steve had nothing against Bruce, but raising a kid that could turn into a giant green mass of destruction sounded hard.) In the end, none of that happened. They didn't get a weird, enormous super-baby, or a green one that came out flailing his fists and screaming, "SMASH!" They got a dead one. Steve hadn't wanted to upset his wife, so he waited until he was out of the room to corner a doctor and ask if it was his fault.

"Was it because of the serum?" He asked anxiously, "Because she really wants to have kids, so if there's anything I could do-" The doctor shook her head, smiling sympathetically.

"No, it had nothing to do with your serum, Mr. Rogers," She said kindly. "The baby simply didn't grow enough in the uterus." Steve was so relieved he almost smiled. He would've, too, if he hadn't just witnessed a doctor pull a small, dead body out of his wife.

They waited another year, before trying again in 2027. It worked. There was another "bun in the oven", as the peple of the 21st century said. This one was a boy, too. Steve picked out the name. It turned out it mean "people's victory", which was a good name for Captain America's son. America was known for being a land of the people, and victory was kind of an important American ethic. Every one of Steve's victories he considered to be a victory of all the American people. But that wasn't why Steve had chosen it. Nick's name came from a movie, one of the only ones Tony had shown Steve from after he'd gone under that he actually liked. It was called _The Sure Thing. _It's been so long since Steve saw the movie that he doesn't exactly remember the context, but there was a quote from the movie that went like this, "Yeah, Nick. Nick's a real name. Nick's your buddy. Nick's the kind of guy you can trust, the kind of guy you can drink a beer with, the kind of guy who doesn't mind if you puke in his car! Nick!" Steve didn't know why, but he thought it was funny. And, so, when the opportunity arose for Steve to name something, he immediately chose "Nick".

His wife didn't argue. He should've known something was up when she didn't even want a say in her own son's name, but he'd just assumed she liked _The Sure Thing_, too. He could never have expected she was planning to leave as soon as she'd popped Nick out. Of course she hadn't cared what his name was. She'd had no intention for him to be any part of her life.

Nick was born on November 5, 2027. Steve's wife told him she wanted a divorce when Nick was a month old. He'd been confused at first. He'd thought they were happy. Sure, lately they'd just been turning off the lights and going to sleep at night on their respective sides of the bed, but he'd chalked that up to having an infant that woke you up every hour. She explained to him, as gently as she could, that it was nothing he'd done. She'd always thought she was bisexual, but had recently realized that wasn't the case. She was lesbian, and in love with a woman. They'd been seeing each other for several months, which meant this had been going on while she was pregnant with Steve's kid. Steve thought that was particularly messed up.

Five months later, the divorce was official. Steve's wife moved out. He never saw her again, and neither did Nick. He was left alone to raise a kid, and he wasn't very good at it. Nick had inherited Steve's super-soldier serum, but expressed no interest in sports or athletic activities of any kind. When Steve told him about S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, Nick had simply shrugged and said, "Sounds cool." He had absolutely no desire to be a hero, which bothered Steve a bit. Nick could do things that a normal person could never even attempt, and in Steve's mind, those abilities had to be used for the better of the people. Nick wasn't proving himself worthy of what he'd been given.

Steve still loved Nick, though. He would always love and support Nick, no matter what he wanted from life. So when Nick wanted to do gymnastics, Steve had signed him up. On the condition that he try football, which he actually seemed to like, since he stuck with it all the way through high school. Steve had even gone to a few of Nick's gymnastics competitions, and he thought Nick was pretty good. What he could do with his body, all those flips and jumps and handstands and stuff, was seriously impressive. It just wasn't...for lack of a better word, _manly_. That sounds pretty douchey, Steve knows. But it was true. Nick was a super-soldier. He was the picture of masculinity. And he wanted to be a gymnast?

Steve was cool with it, honestly. Nick could do whatever he wanted, and Steve couldn't force him to be exactly like his dad. That was bad parenting, Steve had read that in Parenting For Dummies: 2nd Edition. (It ended up being a fairly useless book, but he'd mastered the art of online shopping to order that thing, so he read it cover to cover. Twice.) He just wished Nick knew he loved him, he supported him, and he didn't care if he was a football player, a gymnast, a ballerina-hell, Nick could be a drag queen. Steve would still love him. So why could Nick never see that?

* * *

Nick woke up to his dad pounding on the door to his room. He had an alarm clock, but that didn't matter. His dad always woke up at 6:00am sharp, and woke him up at 6:30. Nick supposed he liked having a strict, set schedule. Maybe he'd learned that from the army. His dad was a mystery to Nick.

"Time for school!" Steve shouted through the wooden door. Nick groaned. "Come on, Nick! Time to get up!" Nick heard his dad's pounding get louder, and immediately jumped up.

"Alright, alright, I'm up!" He cried, "Just don't-"

_BANG_.

Too late. His dad's fist broke right through the wooden door, and Nick sighed. With a super-soldier on one side and a super-soldier on the other, Nick's bedroom door took quite the beating. This wasn't the first time either of them had knocked through it.

"Oops," Steve muttered. Nick gave him an unimpressed look. "Sorry. I'll fix it before you get home."

"Shouldn't you be teaching your class, or whatever?" Nick pointed out. After the whole avenging thing had gone out of style, Steve had taken up a job teaching a class on World War II at a local college.

"I only have one class today," His dad replied, "so I'll have time to fix your door. Now, c'mon. Get ready. The bus'll be here in half and hour." Nick sighed, and started getting ready for school. He didn't hate school that much. He had a best friend, Dylan Smith, who was in all of his classes, and he was doing pretty well. He was fairly popular, because he was the quarterback of the football team, although he wasn't planning to be for much longer. School was just…boring. Routine. Uninteresting. And although he was steadfastly sure he had no desire to be a superhero like his dad, he couldn't help but think there was something out there for him that was less..._normal_.

His dad already had cereal set out on the table by the time Nick got downstairs. He set down his backpack, plopped into the chair, and poured himself some Uncle Sam's Toasted Whole Wheat Flakes. It was almost funny, but Nick thought it was just stupid that Captain America ate Uncle Sam's cereal. Like, seriously. Couldn't just one aspect of their lives not be 100% _American_?

"You forgot your football stuff," Steve told him absently, looking up momentarily from the newspaper. He was probably the only person in the world that still read the newspaper.

"Um, actually, I, uh...I quit football," Nick mumbled. Steve looked up again.

"What? Why? I thought you liked it!" Steve said. Nick shrugged.

"It just...wasn't my thing. Besides, the games were conflicting with gymnastics." He said the last part very quietly and very quickly, because he didn't think his dad had ever been overly fond of the gymnastics thing. It wasn't manly, Nick knew that. He was supposed to be manly. He knew his dad wanted him to be manly, so he'd tried so hard not to be a disappointment. But lately he'd realized it was more important not to disappoint himself. He had to face it: he didn't like football. And he wasn't spending his senior year doing something he hated.

"Okay," Steve replied. Nick looked up from his patriotic breakfast, shocked.

"Okay?" He questioned.

"Yeah, it's fine. Just be sure you're making the right decision," His dad replied. _Well_, Nick thought,_ that was actually...easy._ Steve got up and headed over to the coffee maker, before turning back around and looking at Nick sheepishly. "Um, coffee's cold, but you can still take some to school, if you want." Nick frowned.

"What's wrong with the microwave?" He asked, looking at the spot on the counter where the microwave should have been. "Dad," He pressed, "what happened to the microwave?"

"It blew up," His dad admitted.

"It blew up?" Nick repeated skeptically.

"I was trying to microwave soup for dinner last night-"

"And you forgot to take the top off the can. Again."

"_No_. I took the top off, thank you very much. I took the top off, and I put it in the microwave. And then it started sparking and hissing and popping, so I just unplugged it and threw it out the window."

"You threw the microwave out the window?"

"It was kind of on fire."

"Was it a metal soup can?"

"Um, yeah. I think so."

"Dad, you can't put metal in the microwave."

"Why not?"

"Because…" Nick floundered for an answer, realizing then he didn't know quite why. "Because science!" He spluttered. Outside, the school bus honked. Nick grabbed his backpack and his gymnastics bag.

"I'll pick you up at the gym at seven," His dad called, as Nick ran out the door to the bus. Nick turned around, nodded and waved, then turned back around and jogged on board. The ride to school took fifteen minutes, and was usually unbearable. Nick sat alone, because Dylan took a different bus. He had a system for riding the bus. He found his seat, plunked his backpack down beside him so no one could sit with him, and slid down on the bench until his head wasn't visible. This was so he wouldn't be noticed by the football jocks on his bus. Sure, up until last week he'd been on the team, but he'd never been friends with them.

"...I'm telling you, the dude makes pot," One of them was saying, in a loud, obnoxious voice. "What else would you do in a tower for eleven years?"

"A tower? Jesus, Tom, you make him sound like he's fucking Rapunzel or something," Another one scoffed.

"Maybe he's dead," One suggested. Nick had a pretty good idea of who they were talking about.

"He's not dead, dumbass," The first one argued, "Stark Industries is still producing all that arc reactor shit."

"Heard he's got a daughter," One piped up.

"Yeah," The first agreed, "and I heard she's hot. Sarah, or something." Inadvertently, Nick had made the fatal mistake of inching up ever so slightly to hear their conversation. "Yo, Rogers!" Nick groaned and sat up a little bit more.

"What?" He asked.

"You know anything about Stark?"

"Stark?" Nick questioned, playing dumb. He'd heard about Tony Stark. Not Iron Man, really, but Tony. The man inside the suit. His dad said Tony was sassy, rude, and over-confident, but also a genius and brave. As far as Nick knew, his dad had no idea what had happened to Tony. No one did.

"Yeah, Tony Stark. You know, Iron Man."

"Oh, yeah," Nick said, "I don't know." They pounced on him.

"C'mon, you've gotta know!"

"Wasn't your dad a Revenger, or something?"

"_A_venger, dumbass."

"You can tell us, Rogers. We won't tell anyone."

"Honestly, I don't know!" Nick cried. "His wife died. He's...mourning, I guess."

"For _eleven years_?" A jock scoffed.

"Rogers knows. He'll tell us. We'll make him," One promised. And now that Nick wasn't the quarterback, now that he was a male gymnast, of all things, he was pretty sure they would.

Nick laid low that day at school. It got around that Nick wasn't on the football team anymore, and he'd seen what happened to losers that weren't on the football team, so he tried to stay out of the way and avoid this treatment. He knew they couldn't really hurt him. He had super-enhanced healing. And he know he could throw them off with just a friendly shove. He had superhuman strength. And he knew he could run away, easily. He had superspeed. But he didn't like using his abilities. He didn't want to be super-anything. So Nick avoided pretty much everyone. He didn't wait for Dylan by his locker, he just went straight to class and met his friend there.

"Dude," Dylan said as he plopped down in the desk next to Nick, "what gives? You always wait for me." Nick shrugged.

"Kind of pissed of the jocks on the bus today," He explained.

"How?" Dylan pressed.

"They think I know what happened to Tony Stark, but I don't. So when they asked me, I couldn't tell them. Now they think I'm keeping it from them," Nick told him. Their teacher came in and started class, but Dylan didn't care.

"So, do you know what happened to Tony Stark?" He whispered.

"No!" Nick snapped, as quietly as possible, "I've told you that. All I know is he hasn't come out of his tower since his wife died."

"Everyone knows that," Dylan complained, "but your dad must've-"

"Mr. Smith!" Their teacher called out sharply, "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Dylan stood up from his seat, grinning mischievously.

"Yes," He answered solemnly. Nick buried his face in his hands. Dylan was outgoing, outrageous, and has absolutely no shame. There was no telling where this was going to go. "This morning, I dropped the biggest dump in my recorded history. I had whole wheat spaghetti for dinner last night, and this morning it made its reappearance. It was about seven inches long-"

"Alright, thank you, Mr. Smith," The teacher attempted to end the rant.

"-and four inches thick. It was so huge I thought there might be something medically wrong with me. Fortunately, my mother told me I was fine. We called Guinness Book of World Records, but I was about an inch away from breaking the record. So, I will be eating whole wheat spaghetti every day for every meal for the next ten years, until I break the dump record. That is what I would like to share with the class, Mr. Roberts. Thank you," Dylan finished his speech and sat back down with a flourish, basking in the amused applause from the class. Nick kept his face buried in his arms and his hood up.

"Well, that was certainly...interesting, Mr. Smith. Now, in 1865, Abraham Lincoln…"

Nick took his notes somewhat robotically. He did everything somewhat robotically. He could do this whole day with his eyes closed, he was sure. It was just so routine. And he was bored. Maybe his father was right about the whole "superhero" thing. Maybe it was fun. At least, it had to be better than this. Nick was aching for anything better than this.

The rest of Nick's day passed in a routine haze. He did everything that he did every other day; went to class, took notes, answered a few questions, and went to his next class. The only thing that made today different from any other day was gymnastics after school. He carpooled with another gymnast, a girl named Annamarie. Both of them could drive now, but Anna's mom had always driven them. They'd never even discussed the option of Nick and Anna driving themselves. Nick supposed Anna's mother liked feeling needed and involved in her daughter's life. Anna was good, and so she and Nick usually ended up opposite each other in routines, but Nick didn't like her and she didn't like him. She was stuck-up and conceited, and Nick was quiet and passive, so she tended to just talk his ear off every car ride until they got to the gym. Today, however, was Friday, and Nick had already listened to her brag on Monday and Wednesday, and he had just about had enough.

"...and I got the _prettiest_ new leotard, the other girls are gonna be _so_-"

"Anna, could you shut up?" Nick cut her off. Her mother, as usual, paid them no mind. She was used to them arguing in the car, although Nick usually wasn't so outright rude.

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Anna demanded.

"I said, 'shut up'. I'm tired of listening to you brag every night for the entire ride. So could you just shut up?" He said, as calmly as he could. She looked at him, blinking a few times in shock.

"Rude," She muttered, but she didn't speak again for the entire car ride. Nick counted that as a victory.

They arrived at the gym at five o'clock. Nick ran into the boys' locker room, which was mostly empty, as there weren't too many male gymnasts, and put on his shorts and tank-top. His class started at 5:15, so he was early. That was fine with him, he could wait. He watched the little kids working on the bar across the gym, and smiled to himself. They were cute, and it seemed like only yesterday that he was one of them. But he wasn't. He was eighteen, and he wasn't toddling around on a low beam anymore. He was good at this. That was one of the things he loved about gymnastics. He was special not because he was Captain America's son, but because he was good at flips and tricks and flexibility. People watched him not because they'd read something about his dad in a magazine lately, but because what he did was eye-catching and impressive. He was someone else, here. He was appreciated for himself and his own talents, not who his dad was.

His teacher started class right on time. Nick gathered by the rings where his class usually met, and stood with about six other girls and two other boys. His teacher called roll, then sent Nick and Anna away to practice their floor routine while the rest of the class worked on vaulting. He and Anna were performing this routine in the annual gymnastics show, and it was almost finished. It was inspired by the Spanish bullfights, and Nick was the bull. Anna held a red flag and waved it at him, while he charged and did flips and handsprings towards it. She would whip it out of the way and perform some sort of agile trick to do so each time he got close. It was a good routine, or at least, Nick thought so. And maybe his dad would like that Nick was playing a bull. Bulls were…_manly_, right?

Class was an hour and a half long. Nick and Anna finished their routine and perfected it, to the point that they could do it with their eyes closed. As usual, near the end of class, their teacher came over and asked if they wanted to show their routine to the parents. Some had started gathering now to pick up their kids, others had been watching for the whole time. Nick and Anna were proud of their routine, so they both said yes.

Just before they started, Nick scanned the crowd of parents for his dad. Of course, he wasn't there. Nick sighed to himself. _Why would he be here, anyway?_ Nick thought to himself, _He has absolutely no interest in this whatsoever._ In fact, Nick was starting to believe his dad had no interest in _him_ whatsoever. Why would he? After all, Nick was just a disappointment.


	4. Chapter 4: Bellona Banner

**Here's chapter 4! Please review!**

**InsaneKids159: Thank you so much for reviewing again! I'm glad you liked it!**

**Guest: Bellona's namesake is explained in this chapter, but the Roman mythology thing is part of it. **

**Dislcaimer: I don't own the Avengers. **

* * *

For obvious reasons, Bruce didn't want to have a kid of his own. Passing on his serum, his monster, and his struggle just seemed wrong. He was unwilling to condemn someone else to what he'd gone through. So, he'd adopted Bellona with the intention of keeping her normal forever. No such luck.

He'd considered looking in another country, but ended up taking her off the hands of a reckless teenager who'd gotten a little _too_ drunk at a party. Bellona was named after the Roman goddess of war, but not because Bruce wanted her to be war-like or anything. He picked it because Bellona was one of the only Roman gods or goddesses without a Greek counterpart. She wasn't based of someone else, she was all her own. That was what he wanted for _his_ Bellona. He'd correctly assumed she'd have a tough time making people appreciate her for her, what with her dad being the Hulk, and all. So he'd named her after someone who had her own identity, in hopes that Bellona could do the same.

Around the same time that he'd adopted Bellona, he started working on a new project. It was a new serum, something to inject into someone to make them more than human. He figured, after the disastrous results of his own serum, he probably should want absolutely nothing more to do with serums whatsoever. But he'd unlocked the ability to enhance the human body, to make it more than what it was. That wasn't something you turned down. Now, he was trying to harness the elements. He studied the chemical makeup of fire, water, earth, and wind, but also ice and electricity. If it worked, it would give the injected the ability to control these elements. He worked tirelessly for three years before it was perfect. It had sat, untouched, for a few weeks after he'd finished it, while he designed a synthetic human to test it on. And he hadn't exactly gone to great lengths to protect it. He hadn't locked it up or anything. He'd just set it out in a syringe, held snugly in a test-tube rack.

That night, when toddling around looking for him, three-year-old Bellona had wandered into his lab. She saw the syringe, with its strange swirling colors that went from red to ice blue to green to white to deep cobalt. Carefully, she plucked it from its snug little pocket and examined it. And then she raised it, and plunged it into her chubby little arm.

According to Bellona, it hadn't hurt. It had worked just how Bruce had intended it to. The fire that should have burned her was cooled by the water. The ice that should've frozen her was melted by the fire. The water that should've drowned her from the inside was frozen by the ice. And the earth that should have weighed her down so she could never move again was broken up by the wind. The actual injection wasn't the problem. It was the consequences. The after-effects. The powers.

Like Bruce's "Other Guy", Bellona's powers were triggered by emotion. In this aspect, at least, Bellona was the perfect candidate for the serum. Even as a small child, she'd had amazing self-control. It took Bruce three weeks after he'd found the syringe drained of his precious serum to learn Bellona had done it. He was scolding her about not cleaning up her toys, and she was arguing that she wasn't done with the game she was playing, so she had to keep the dolls in their exact spots so she could resume. He got her angry and a little scared, mostly because of his history of turning into a giant green mass of rage, and she'd lost control.

"If I put them away, I'll forget where they were last time!" She argued.

"Bellona, you can't leave them out. They get in the way. I can hardly walk through your room," He pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," She said stubbornly, "I can. And it's _my_ room."

"Enough, Bellona!" He hadn't realized he'd started walking towards her, or that his skin had taken on a sort of greenish tinge that usually didn't mean he had the flu. "You'll put them away, and you'll put them away _now_!"

Just as he spoke the last word, long, sharp icicles flew out of Bellona's hands. He ducked as they narrowly missed his head, and watched as they shattered against the wall and the truth came out.

Bruce had been angry, but mostly, he'd been heartbroken. He'd so wanted for Bellona to live a life void of what he'd suffered through. He'd spent his life struggling to pen up his emotions, always teetering on the edge. He was almost constantly filled with rage he couldn't let out, and he ached to release all his pent up energy. Staying in control was almost painful at times. He hadn't wanted that for Bellona. He'd wanted her to have an easy, happy, normal life.

After that incident, Bellona was pulled out of preschool. Bruce homeschooled her himself, and spent most of the time teaching her to control her powers. It was a learning experience for both of them. Bruce didn't really know himself exactly how every aspect of the serum worked. They discovered her power together, and when she'd fully gained control, she was amazing. Not only could she create fire, ice, wind, water, and earth with her bare hands, she could control what was already there. He'd seen her run out to play in the snowy park, and using the natural snow on the ground, she'd built a snowman without touching the frozen water. When he built fires, he often caught her twitching her fingers ever so slightly, and making the flames dance. He realized then, after he'd seen her do all these things, that he still had saved her from his pain. His Hulk was horrible. The "Other Guy" was pure anger and motiveless destruction. Bellona, though, her power was _beautiful_.

* * *

Bellona was probably the only one who went to school for the first time at age seventeen. She also was probably the only one with the ability to control fire, shoot icicles from her hands, fly by manipulating the wind, charge her phone using her electricity powers, walk on water, or climb trees by making them bend down for her. That didn't make things easier for her at school, though. It alienated her. People mocked her, feared her, or, at best, avoided her. She didn't have a single friend.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to control her powers at school. The students knew she had them, obviously. The principal said they would have to alert the students and their parents for "safety reasons". But that didn't mean she was allowed to use them. And the way the other kids pointed and laughed at her angered her, and the way the burly, ruthless jocks shoved her into lockers scared her. It was only a matter of time before she lost control.

Bellona was currently walking from math to English, alone, as usual. Students started gathering in the hall to get their things as she walked, and they parted for her like the Red Sea. No one wanted to touch the human experiment.

"Make way!" One of the jocks called, "Make way for the freak!"

_Block them out_, She told herself, as she felt a fire of anger ignite inside her.

"Ew, it touched me!" A girl squealed, as she and Bellona accidentally bumped shoulders.

_You can't hear her._

"What's the matter, weirdo? Can't stand up for yourself?" Someone taunted.

_You aren't here. They aren't here. Don't listen._

"Get outta my way, _freak_." A boy shoved her roughly to the ground, and she'd had enough. Before she could stop herself, she'd slammed him up against a locker with a gust of wind and a loud clang.

There was absolute silence in the hall, before her victim exclaimed, "What the hell?" Bellona looked around at the terrified faces of the students. "You're gonna pay for that," The boy growled, and too late, Bellona noticed his football jersey. Of course, she'd attacked a popular student. Immediately, other football players broke out of the crowd and advanced towards her, cracking their knuckles.

"Please, don't do this," She pleaded with them, "you don't know what I can do."

"We're not afraid of you, freak," One said. No one in the crowd moved. Everyone was watching Bellona face off with the football players.

The first one ran at her, and with a rough upward jerk, Bellona brought a large stone straight through the cement floor. He tripped, went sprawling, and landed hard on the ground. He lay on the floor, dazed, and made no further move towards her.

"Sorry," Bellona muttered, turning her attention to her next attacker. "I don't want to hurt you," She warned, but the boy merely rolled his eyes, balled up his fist, and went to punch her. Holding up her hands to guard her face, Bellona froze his arm in it's position. One by one, she took them all down. One she trapped in a ring of fire, another she wrapped up in vines. One she sent swirling down the hall in a mini-cyclone, another she mildly stunned with her electricity. She was about to unleash a tidal wave on the last, when the principal arrived.

Bellona fled. No one got in her way. Even the principal feared her. She raced down the hall, her messenger bag over her shoulder and the rest of her things still in her locker, then burst out the doors. Without a second glance, she lifted herself into the air and flew home as fast as she could. She went high enough that most people would mistake her for a bird if they looked, but she'd found most New Yorkers didn't. They kept their heads down and their shoulders hunched, never pausing to glance around for just a moment.

It took her about five minutes to get from school to her building. She burst into the lobby and started making for the elevator, before she saw a group of people waiting for it. _No, no, no_, she thought frantically, _people and tight spaces aren't good._ Frost starting spreading beneath her feet, and she bolted for the stairs. The ice always came when she was nervous or panicked. The fire was for anger, the electricity was for excitement, and the water flowed when she was relaxed. She had to be in control all the time. If she was even too calm, it would trigger her water powers.

With a trail of ice tailing her, she raced up the stairs and onto her floor. Her plan was to go straight to her room, slam the door, and let her powers wreak havoc until she regained control. Her room was, more or less, power-proof. She kept nothing valuable in there, nothing flammable, and nothing that could be damaged by water. She had just made it through the kitchen when her dad intercepted her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," He said, "what's going on? Shouldn't you be in school?" Ice started spreading up his arms, and she frantically tried to pull herself away from him, but he kept a firm grip.

"I lost control," She explained, "you need to let me go. I'll hurt you."

"No," He answered firmly, "you need to calm down." She knew he was right. And something about the firm, steady, fearlessness of his voice calmed her. The ice melted. She was in control, and she was safe. Once he saw she was okay, he wrapped his arms tightly around her. Usually she couldn't stand being constrained. Even closets or elevators freaked her out. But with her dad, it was different. Even though, when provoked, he had a history of turning green and destroying buildings with his fist, she knew he'd never hurt her. She'd even been able to talk him out of his Hulk form once. She was not afraid.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, "I can't go back. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Bruce replied, "I should never have let you go to school in the first place." To this, Bellona only sighed. It had taken so much convincing to get her dad to let her out in the world. He was just so protective. She was seventeen, and she had never had a sleepover, never kissed a boy, never gossipped to her girlfriends (she didn't have any), and never even gone to the mall. She knew what her dad did, he did out of love and he did to protect her. But how could she make him see that she didn't always need to be protected?


	5. Chapter 5: Convincing

**Here's chapter 5! Updates are gonna be a bit slow for the next few days, because I have exams and I don't have anything written after this chapter. Please review**

**InsaneKids159: Thank you! It's so nice to have someone like you who reviews every chapter. It's nice to know that people read this, and I love to hear your feedback. You're always so complementary, and it's great to hear. Thanks again!**

**Guest: Glad you liked it. I can't reveal anything as to Chase's "confusion", but it will be explained. Thanks for reviewing!**

**RollingUpHigh: Actually, Nick has powers, too. He's a super-soldier, so he has enhanced strength, enhanced speed, enhanced healing, and enhanced endurance. Stella and Chase don't have powers, so it's 50/50. Two have powers, two don't. Just like with the real Avengers. Thor, Bruce, and Steve had powers, Tony, Natasha, and Clint didn't. Thanks for the review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers.**

* * *

Chase had only been suspended for two days when Phil Coulson showed up in Stella's kitchen. School had been worse than usual, Duncan had more persistent than usual, and classes had been duller than usual. Stella had to admit it, she needed Chase back. They were a team, and without her partner, she was floundering. Maybe that was part of the reason she said yes to Coulson's offer. She came home from school that Tuesday afternoon, rode up the elevator, stepped into the kitchen, and dropped her bag on the floor before looking up at the man seated in her chair.

"DAD!" She shouted, "THERE'S AN UNEXPLAINED BALDING MAN IN A SUIT SITTING IN OUR KITCHEN!"

"Shall I engage the emergency intruder protocol?" JARVIS asked. Tony burst into the room.

"No!" He gasped, "No emergency intruder protocol!" The man raised an eyebrow.

"What's the 'emergency intruder protocol'?" He asked.

"I'll probably be arrested if I say, but it involves fire and you losing most of your face," Tony answered.

"He's already lost most of his hair," Stella pointed out.

"She's a chip off the old block, Tony," The man commented, jerking his head towards Stella.

"Okay, is someone gonna tell me who this bald dude is and why he's here, or can I go finish building that new gun with Chase?" Stella asked.

"Ms. Stark, I'm Agent Coulson," The man, Coulson, answered, "but you can call me Phil."

"I'd rather not," Stella replied. "Agents having first names is weird. You're Agent Coulson or you're just Coulson." Coulson chuckled. Stella rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, you did not just _chuckle_. Real people don't _chuckle_, Agent Coulson. That only happens in movies involving wise old men, and gay fanfiction."

"Alright," Coulson said, "I'll refrain from chuckling in your presence."

"Can you hurry up? I've got a gun to build and my hair's a mess," Stella snapped.

"I think your hair looks fine, Ms. Stark," Coulson answered.

"That's creepy and possibly pedophilic," Stella shot back.

"Stella, just listen to what Coulson has to say," Tony cut in.

"I know what he has to say!" Stella exclaimed, turning to her father, "He wants me to join S.H.I.E.L.D. and become another crime-fighting minion, running around in a tight onesie shouting, 'Justice!' or whatever!" She turned back to Coulson. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm gonna do my _own_ thing. You don't own everyone with a morphsuit and a cape, _Phil_. So, S.H.I.E.L.D. will have to do without Stella Stark." With that, she turned and marched from the room.

"Let me know if you change your mind, Ms. Stark," Coulson called from the kitchen.

"I won't!" She replied, without turning around.

* * *

Just like Tony, Stella didn't like to talk about feelings. Tony understood that, he didn't like it either. And she didn't have to. He knew how she was feeling. She was tired of being thought of as Iron Man's daughter. She wanted to be thought of as Stella. And so she was doing everything she could to make her life different from his.

He hadn't been too keen on S.H.I.E.L.D. himself, at least at first. But now he thought differently, and he thought Stella could benefit from S.H.I.E.L.D. They could teach her things her school never could. And S.H.I.E.L.D. could help keep her protected from government agencies or super villains. In the end, she would be better off there, even if she couldn't see it.

But even though Stella didn't like to talk about her emotions, she needed an outlet. Everyone did. Back when the Avengers had all lived together, Tony had seen everyone's outlet. Steve destroyed punching bags. Clint and Natasha tried to kill people in their sleep. Thor brushed his long hair for hours on end. Apparently, he found it soothing. And Bruce turned into a giant green rage monster. As for Tony, he tended to drink copious amounts of alcohol until Captain America had to carry him back to his room. Stella couldn't drink yet, so when she needed an outlet, she either danced, or she sang.

Stella was good at both. She'd started out in ballet classes when she was three, and now took five classes a week in ballet, jazz, acro, lyrical, and hip hop. Tony didn't pretend to know what half of those were. When she was angry, she would go down to the gym, push the equipment to the side, turn on loud music, and improvise. Tony watched her sometimes through JARVIS's cameras, and even what she just came up with off the top of her head was impressive. She could jump and flip and turn in ways Tony didn't know were possible.

This time, she'd gone up to her room, pulled out her guitar, and started banging away. She was using her electric, so Tony could hear it from a floor below. He figured he'd give her a few minutes, before going down to see what she was working on. Stella was good at guitar, too. When she was younger, and Pepper was still alive, she would play shows for her parents. Now that she was older, she played _actual_ shows, at restaurants and school dances. He'd never actually gone to any of them, but he'd seen videos. He would've gone, but he was kind of committed to the whole "recluse" thing, now. Eleven years was pretty impressive, he couldn't just break a streak like that. The only person who had him beat was Steve, who'd stayed locked away from the world for seventy years. But Tony reasoned that Steve had had an unfair advantage with, you know, the ice, and the "frozen in time" stuff.

Besides, if he went back out now, after eleven years, there'd be a lot of questions. At first, people had let it be. The press understood that his wife had just died, and he needed space. But then, as time went on with no sight of Tony Stark, it just started building up. People became more and more desperate to see him, which made the idea of going outside more and more intimidating. Besides, the tower was where he felt closest to Pepper. He had her picture on his bedside table, her clothes in their closet, she was everywhere. And when he needed someone to talk to that wasn't a computerized voice in the walls, he felt that she could hear him. At least, she could here. This "ghostly presence", or whatever it was that he was feeling, was all he had left of her. He couldn't leave.

Just then, he heard Stella strike a final chord, and decided he should go check on her. Because that's what dads did, and Tony really was trying to be a normal dad, outside of being a reclusive ex-superhero/Avenger. So, he traipsed up the stairs, through the hall, and knocked on her blue door.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"Sure," She replied, yanking the door open. She had her guitar (also blue) slung across her shoulder.

"Wanna play me something?"

"Sure," She repeated. She grabbed her pick off her music stand, arranged her fingers, and started playing.

_It's a new day, but it all feels old._

_It's a good life, that's what I'm told._

_But everything, it all just feels the same._

Tony sighed. He knew this song. It was called "The Anthem", and it was about rejecting the status quo and being your own person. It was definitely Stella's theme song.

_I don't ever wanna be like you,_

_I don't wanna do the things you do._

_I'm never gonna hear the words you say,_

_'Cause I don't ever wanna, I don't ever wanna be you._

Stella kept her eyes trained on her music, but Tony could tell the words were aimed at him and Phil Coulson, though the agent was gone. This was her way of saying, _I'm never going to be your little S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. I want to be _me_._

_This is the anthem, throw all your hands up._

_You, don't wanna be you._

Stella continued playing, and Tony kept listening, wondering how he could make her see the upside to S.H.I.E.L.D. without seeming like he was pressuring her. Honestly, he wasn't. He totally understood where she was coming from, and if she never wanted to get some proper training, fine. But with a talented warrior like his daughter, there was no telling how amazing S.H.I.E.L.D. could make her.

"That was nice," Tony commented, "and I get it. You don't wanna be me. It makes sense."

"Wanting to be my own person isn't a difficult concept to understand," Stella muttered. Tony stood up, rolling his eyes.

"Get some sleep, Stels," He said, patting her on the head and making for the door.

"Hypocrite," She replied.

"Hey," He said, pausing in the doorway, "don't hate me, but I think you should consider Agent Coulson's offer." She opened her mouth to retort, but he held up a hand. "S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't a bad place. They know what they're doing. They can teach you what I never could."

"What you can't teach me, Aunt Natasha can," Stella sighed.

"Maybe, but Natasha learned from S.H.I.E.L.D.. And Nick Fury has more tricks up his sleeve than even the Black Widow. You could learn a few things," Tony argued.

"If he's so skilled, how'd he lose his eye?" Stella countered.

"He…," Tony began, before realizing he didn't quite _know_. "I have no idea. One of life's unanswerable questions, I suppose. However it happened, it makes him look badass."

"True," Stella admitted.

"See? You could get a badass eyepatch, too. Just think about it." With that, he left her room, knowing she wouldn't.

* * *

Phil Coulson showed up in Stella's kitchen every day for the next three. As soon as Stella got home from school, she'd find him seated in her chair at the table, ready to start her on her father's pathway. Every day, she said the same thing, "No." Eventually, it just became a routine part of her afternoon. That didn't mean she enjoyed it. In fact, she was thrilled when Coulson said, "This is the last time I'm coming."

"Really?" Stella said, "Because I was just starting to enjoy shooting you down. Rejecting someone in a suit and an earpiece who wears sunglasses inside really made me feel powerful." Coulson flashed her a fake, "you're cute" smile.

"Look, I'm just gonna give you the facts."

"So all those other things you've been telling me about S.H.I.E.L.D. have been lies?"

"You're good, Ms. Stark. S.H.I.E.L.D. could really use potential like yours. And you could really use expertise like S.H.I.E.L.D.'s. You'll get one-on-one training with Agent Hill. That's pretty special."

"I already get one-on-one training with Iron Man and the Black Widow."

"Look, Tony and Nat are good. They can teach you a lot. But combined, all the agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. could teach you a lot more. And that's what we're offering."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Stella started to exit the room.

"Chase Barton agreed."

"Good for him."

"You won't have to go to school."

"What makes you think S.H.I.E.L.D. is any better?"

"Ms. Stark, it seems the issue here is that you want to be different from your dad." Stella stopped in her tracks and whirled around. "You think that becoming an agent-in-training at S.H.I.E.L.D. will mean you're following in your father's footsteps. And you know what I think? I think you already have enough trouble as it is getting people to appreciate you for you. I think boys like you because you're pretty, and girls like you because your dad is famous. And I think you don't want to give them any more reason to associate you with Iron Man. That's what I think."

"You don't know _anything_ about me!" Stella snapped.

"Maybe not," Coulson admitted, "but what if I said S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't make you exactly like your father?"

"Everyone can say things, Agent Coulson. Doesn't mean they're true," Stella muttered, turning around and starting to walk out again.

"What if I said S.H.I.E.L.D. could make you _better_?"

Stella turned on her heel again. Better? S.H.I.E.L.D. could give her the opportunity to be better than her dad? Her mind started reeling. People would finally appreciate her for the things she'd done, not for what her dad had. People would see that she wasn't just a clone of the great Iron Man, she was a new and improved model. Maybe being as different as possible _wasn't_ the best way to separate herself from her father's legacy. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. was.

"Chase is doing this?" She questioned.

"Mr. Barton agreed three days ago, Ms. Stark. All of our recruits did. You were the only...difficulty."

"And I won't ever have to go back to school? Ever?"

"If you stick with S.H.I.E.L.D., anything your school could offer you would be primitive compared to what you'd have been taught."

"Do you have a lab?"

"We have fourteen."

"And if I want to quit?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. only asks that you try our program for a week. After that, you're free to continue with us, or go back to your original schedule." Stella sighed, not meeting Coulson's eyes.

"I'm in."

Coulson's face lit up like a Christmas tree, but he immediately regained composure.

"Thank you, Ms. Stark," He said stoically, but there was a hint of excitement in his voice. "We'll see you at S.H.I.E.L.D. on Monday." With that, he exited the kitchen and made for the elevator.

"JARVIS," Stella said, "give me video footage of the elevator Coulson is in."

"Projecting live footage of Agent Coulson, ma'am," JARVIS complied, and immediately, an image of Coulson in the elevator showed up on the TV. He pressed the button for the lobby, waited for the doors to close, and punched the air in triumph.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, before touching his earpiece. "Fury," He said, "we've got Stark! We've got Stella Stark!"


	6. Chapter 6: SHIELD

**Here is chapter 6! Sorry this one took me longer, I'm currently in the middle of exams :(. I'll be able to update faster after this weekend, though. Please review!**

**InsaneKids159: Thank you for another awesome review! I'm glad you like Stella, she's my favorite character, too. Closely followed by Bellona, and then Nick and Chase are probably tied. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers. Or pizza rolls. Or Cheez Curlz. Or anything else mentioned in this chapter that I don't own. **

* * *

Steve tried to prepare Nick as well as he could for S.H.I.E.L.D.

"It's gonna be hard," Steve warned, "the training and stuff. And you might not like everyone on your team, but you have to suck it up."

"Woah, wait, who didn't you like?" Nick asked. Steve was silent for a moment.

"Stark and I got off on the wrong foot," He finally admitted, "but we worked it out. As you will have to if you don't like anyone."

"I think I'll-WOAH, DAD, RED LIGHT!" Nick shouted. Steve slammed on the brakes, screeching their minivan to a halt. "You really shouldn't be allowed to drive this thing," Nick sighed.

"I passed my driver's test."

"In _1936_."

"This isn't about me!" Steve hastily changed the subject. "This is about you. Are you sure you want to do this? I haven't really trained you at all, and I hear Tony and Natasha's kids are experienced killers. We could wait a year, or-"

"It'll be fine, Dad," Nick assured him.

"Well," Steve sighed, "it better be, 'cause here we are." Nick looked out his window and gasped. S.H.I.E.L.D. was huge. Dozens of uniform grey buildings covered acres of land. Shiny black cars traversed roads between buildings, while some agents, dressed in tight, black unitards, chose to walk wherever they were going. Helicopters sat on launch pads atop buildings, and landing strips jutted out across the property. An agent was waiting for them as they pulled up to the driveway, and he opened the door just as Nick started to, causing him to tumble out of the car in a totally un-superhero-esque manner.

"Captain Rogers," The man said, looking at Nick's dad. "I'll show you to the proper building."

"I think I still know my way around," Steve replied, "which building?"

"Building B, Captain," The agent answered, gesturing to a hulking, black mass behind him, "it's right there."

"Yup, I'm pretty sure I can find that," Steve muttered. "We'll be fine from here, thanks." Nick fell into step beside his father as they approached the building, keeping his eyes peeled for any of the other famous Avengers. He'd been around for eighteen years, and never met any of them.

"Have you been in there before?" Nick asked.

"Building B? Sure, that's the main training facility. That was where we sparred and ran simulations. It's also where we locked up the Hulk when he...y'know, _Hulked_," Steve replied.

"How'd you manage to get the Hulk in a cage?" Nick asked. He'd never met Bruce Banner, but he'd heard of the famous green monster, and it didn't sound very cage-able.

"He really likes Cheez Curlz, so we made a trail of them into the cage," Steve explained nonchalantly, as if this was a no-brainer.

"Cheez Curlz? How'd you find that out?"

"Well, we were-Tony?"

Nick looked up and saw the recluse himself entering through another door. But even though he was probably one of the first people in eleven years to see Tony Stark, Nick only had eyes for his daughter. She was beautiful. He brown hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that hung in one ringlet, right down to her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled with wit and humor, like her father's. Her skin was tan and clear, without a single flaw. She was thin, but not like the fake celebrities you saw in magazines. She looked _real_. And Nick was in love.

"Steve!" Tony greeted them, "Long time, no see!"

"No kidding!" Steve replied. Then they did that bro-hug thing that guys did when they were too close with their friend for a handshake, but didn't want to be the first to go for the full hug. "This is Nick," Steve said, pushing Nick forward slightly.

"Hi," Nick greeted. Tony shook his hand, and all Nick could think was, _What's her name_? When really, he should've been thinking,_ I'm shaking hands with Iron Man._

"Nice to meet you, Nick. Do you also wear a tight suit that looks suspiciously like a onesie, so you look like a star-spangled toddler running around smashing aliens with a metal circle?" Tony asked.

"Um…," Nick stammered.

"Good to see you haven't changed, Stark," Steve sighed.

"Oh, it's 'Stark' now? When I got here it was 'Tony'. I guess I've already lost the privilege of 'first name basis'," Tony quipped.

"You called my suit a onesie."

"Hate to break it to you, Capsicle, but it _does_ look like a onesie."

"It's a specially designed supersuit meant to give hope to the American people."

"It's a onesie."

"It is _not_-"

"Well, _that_ didn't take long," Tony's daughter sighed. "I mean, Dad, you told me you two argued, but come on. It's been, what, two minutes?" Tony and Steve both sighed, and Steve uncrossed his arms. Tony rested his hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"This is Stella," Tony introduced her. Nick stepped out first and shook her hand.

"Hi," He said.

"Hi," She replied, smiling at him. Tony grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her back.

"Stella, this is-"

"Captain America, right?" She finished, stepping towards Nick's father.

"Um, yup," Steve muttered, furrowing his brow.

"And you're supposed to represent all of America?" She pressed.

"I guess," Steve replied.

"Well then, isn't it kind of racist that you're white? I mean, if you represent the entirety of the American people, and you're a white man, that means you think all the American people are white men. Did you know that by 2050, people of color are estimated to take up approximately 49.9 percent of the American population? That's nearly half of the American population you're ignoring, Captain, and we're only five years away. Also, did you know that 50.8% of the American population are women? That's over half the American population that you're ignoring, which also makes you sexist. I'm just saying, your mere _existence_ shows that you believe all of America is white, or that the only Americans that matter are white. That's _racist_, Captain Rogers. Are you _racist_?" Steve blinked a few times, staring at Stella with disbelief and a little bit of fear. There was a long, awkward pause, during which Tony very poorly hid a smirk, and Steve stared at Stella with wide, shocked eyes. Finally, Nick broke the silence, erupting in laughter. Tony almost immediately joined in, and after a minute or two of straight laughter, Stella joined in a bit uneasily. Nick supposed she felt awkward laughing at her own joke, but he thought her laugh was beautiful. It sounded musical, like bells tingling or angels singing. _Wait_, He thought to himself,_ 'angels singing'?_ Okay, maybe he was getting a _bit_ carried away with this crush.

"Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark," A new voice spoke. Nick turned and saw a tall, thin, brunette woman in a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. "You're late. The Bartons and the Banners have already arrived. They've been waiting for ten minutes now."

"Glad to see you've still got a stick up your ass, Agent Hill," Tony replied.

"Tony," The woman Nick took to be Agent Hill sighed in a mock affectionate matter, "I would say it's good to see you, but you're still a narcissistic bastard." Tony and Steve started following Agent Hill up a flight of stairs, and Stella and Nick fell into step behind them.

"What's her problem?" Nick heard his dad ask Tony, "Did you sleep with her, or something?" Tony was silent. "Oh my god, Tony," Steve gaped, "you nailed Maria Hill?"

"Possibly," Tony murmured.

"_Tony_," Steve scolded.

"What? It was before Stella, and before I got married, so it was perfectly legal."

"You slept with her, and then you left her. That's wrong, Tony."

"Why? I've done it to tons of girls."

"Doesn't make it okay."

"How I've missed your self-righteousness, Capsicle."

Agent Hill led them into what appeared to be some sort of waiting room, with comfy chairs and padded benches set up throughout. Inside were people Nick recognized from pictures in his house, but was still amazed to see in person. He almost ran up and asked the Black Widow to sign his forehead, but Agent Hill put a hand on both his and Stella's shoulders.

"Tony, Steve, you can wait here. Stella, Nick, follow me," She instructed. She didn't look like a woman to cross, so they obeyed her. Tony and Steve immediately went to get re-acquainted with their fellow Avengers, and Nick and Stella let Agent Hill lead them to what appeared to be a conference room. In the center was a long, shiny black table, flanked by spinny leather chairs. Two teens were already seated. One wore skinny jeans and a tight red V-neck. She had olive skin, blue eyes, and long, brown hair twisted up in a perfect ballerina bun. She was drawing on the table with what appeared to be frost, coming right out of her fingertips. The other was a boy, who looked to be younger than the girl. He had short-cropped brown hair, brown eyes, and had a combat bow slung over his shoulder.

"Stella!" The boy called.

"Chase," She replied, and went to sit next to him. Nick felt something deflate within him. _She has a boyfriend_, he thought desolately, as he took his seat next to the girl with the ballerina bun. Just then, a man in a black trenchcoat with an eyepatch stepped into the room.

"Welcome," He said, "to the Avengers Jr. Initiative."

"I reject that," Stella spoke up, "it's not an initiative if you've already done it. The word 'initiative' implies you're _starting_ something, when really, this is pretty much just a movie sequel."

"Thank you for your input, Ms. Stark," He replied, not at all shaken. "I am Director Nick Fury, and I will be training you, with the help of Agents Coulson and Hill. With our help, you will outshine your parents' legacy. The Avengers were unprepared and hastily thrown together when we were desperate. You will be better, because when the time comes that you are needed, you will be trained, prepared, and acquainted with each other. Why don't we introduce ourselves?"

"What, like play the name game?" Stella's boyfriend, Chase, scoffed.

"No, Mr. Barton, like tell your future teammates what your name is, because someday soon they will be your only chance of survival, and you might want to at least know their names," Fury hissed.

"Oh, okay," Chase replied, without faltering or showing any sign of intimidation, "just clarifying. I'm Chase."

"Tell them a bit about your abilities," Agent Coulson prompted.

"Right," Chase said. He gestured to his bow. "I'm, uh, I'm pretty good at killing people." Then he looked at Stella, and she took her cue.

"I'm Stella," She announced, "and I've got a pretty cool metal outfit that allows me to fly and blast people with bolts of energy. Chase and I both are also experts at various forms of martial arts, and I'm not bad with a gun." Then she looked to Nick, and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"I'm Nick," He said, "and I, uh, I guess I'm a super-soldier. So, I've just got enhanced, um, stuff."

"I'm Bellona," The girl beside Nick, Bellona, told them, "and I have this serum that allows me to control fire, water, wind, earth, ice, and electricity."

"Well, now that we're all acquainted, we want to see what you can do." Nick Fury drew aside a black curtain, revealing a glass window that exposed a completely empty room, with padded walls and a padded floor. "This is a simulation chamber. It's used to simulate combat situations and computerized enemies. That way, you can train in what appears to be an entirely real scenario, with no long-term consequences if you fail. Stella, Chase, I've heard you're familiar with these?"

"Dad runs them for us when we're bored," Stella replied, "can we give it a go?"

"We'll let Nick and Bellona try first," Fury said. Nick straightened up immediately, shaking his head, but Fury kept talking. "Don't worry, the simulated people are made of pixels and can't hurt you. Permanently. Any injuries acquired in the simulator will heal as soon as it's shut off. The idea of this simulation is to see what you can do if you're caught off guard. Bellona and Nick, you'll each be allowed a weapon. Chase and Stella, you'll have to handle this one empty-handed."

"I don't need a weapon," Bellona pointed out, wiggling her fingers. Tiny flames ignited from her fingertips.

"Fair point," Fury admitted. "Nick, any particular weapon you'd like?"

"Um," He stammered, "I've, um, I've never used a weapon."

"Here," Agent Hill offered, opening a closet and pulling something out, "use this." She handed him a large, round piece of metal with a handle on the back, and he slipped his hand through. Immediately, something clicked. The shield felt comfortable and light, and even without the slightest clue of how to use it, he felt like he could stop a zombie apocalypse. This was _his_ weapon. Well, technically it was his dad's, first, but this was a different shield. And this one was his.

"I like it," He said. Agent Hill smiled.

"Alright then," Fury cut in, "get in there." He opened the door to the simulation chamber and ushered Nick and Bellona inside. At first, nothing happened. Then the lights flickered, there was a blast of white, and their surroundings changed.

Nick and Bellona were alone in an empty lot. Walls surrounded them, and beyond those were broken buildings. Glass from smashed windows littered the ground, and the sky was black with smoke from the still burning structures.

"Be ready," Bellona instructed, "this is creepy." Nick raised his shield into what he hoped was an acceptable ready-position in response, and stood back to back with Bellona. As if on cue, three men dressed all in black leaped over the walls. Two rushed at Bellona, the other at Nick. Bellona immediately lit hers on fire, while Nick stood stock-still, completely clueless. More were jumping the walls and advancing as he stood there. "Do something!" Bellone shouted, as she launched vines at three new enemies.

Without thinking, Nick charged at the first opponent. He aimed a kick at the guy's head, and his adversary grabbed his leg in midair. Then he went to flip Nick over his shoulder, but Nick was ready for that. He was a gymnast. Flips were the one thing he could do. He treated it like a partner routine. This guy was simply launching him. So when Nick's opponent yanked his leg and sent him flipping over his shoulder, Nick turned it into a double layout, and managed to nail the guy in the head as he did it. He landed behind his combatant, and while he was still rubbing his head where Nick had kicked him, Nick smashed his shield over the guy's head. He crumpled to the ground, and Nick was meant with at least fifteen more. Behind him, Bellona was waging icy war on her opponents, and they were dropping like flies. Nick turned back to face his adversaries, took a deep breath, and went in.

It was probably only adrenaline and dumb luck that kept Nick alive. Oh, and the fact that all the villains were computerized and made of pixels. At first, he was just swirling in circles with his shield outstretched, hoping to hit as many bad guys as he could. But then one aimed a kick at him, and without thinking, he tucked under his shield and did a somersault out of the way. Not his flashiest trick, but hey, it worked. And it got him thinking. This was just like the bull dance routine, he just had to dance Annamarie's part. Every time they charged at him, he flipped out of the way. He turned side aerials, taking out two with his legs as he flew. He charged at another guy, and, using him as a vaulting table, grabbed onto his shoulders and flipped right over him, knocking him in the back with his legs as he landed. Two more were waiting for him, and he took out one with his elbow and another with his shield. Bellona was on fire (literally) behind him, and combined, he thought the two of them were doing pretty well. He whirled around to check on her, and saw a computerized foe approaching her from behind with a gun while she blasted water at her adversaries.

"Bellona, look out!" He cried, hurling his shield. She ducked just in time, and it hit the bad guy in the stomach. He fell to the ground, and Bellona dropped a rock on his head that came right of her palm. Nick turned back around, expecting to be met with more men in black, but saw none. Bellona lit the last of hers on fire.

"Well," She panted, "I guess that's it." The scene around them flickered, then reverted back to the empty simulation chamber. Nick Fury opened the door from the outside, and he and Bellona traipsed out.

"For your first try, that wasn't bad," He told them, as they took their seats beside Chase and Stella, "it only took you three minutes and seventeen point four seconds." Chase and Stella very poorly hid laughter behind their hands.

"Director Fury, can we show them how it's done?" Stella requested.

"If by that you mean run a simulation, be my guest," Fury replied. Stella and Chase headed inside the simulation chamber, and Nick and Bellona moved to the glass window to watch. The lights flashed, and Stella and Chase were transported to the same scene Bellona and Nick had entered. They adopted fighting stances immediately, and as soon as the first enemies jumped the walls, they flew into action.

Chase was good, but Nick's eyes were glued to Stella. She threw a punch at an enemy, he caught her arm, and she just used it as leverage to swing herself onto his shoulders and snap his neck. She allowed herself to be wrapped in a choke hold by another, before smashing her head back against his and knocking him to the ground. She flipped two over her shoulder at once, one in each hand. Nick was struggling to keep from gaping while he watched her. She was magnificent.

"Impressed, Mr. Rogers?" Coulson asked, smirking. Oh. So maybe he _was_ gaping.

"Um, yeah," Nick stammered, "she's-I mean, _they're_, um, good at this."

"They were trained by the best," Coulson replied.

"Chuck Norris trained Stella and Chase?" Bellona asked incredulously. Coulson laughed.

"No. But close. Clint and Natasha," He answered. "Otherwise known as Hawkeye and the Black Widow."

"Well, _that's_ unfair," Bellona muttered. Nick almost pointed out that her dad was the Hulk, but then realized that his dad was Captain America, so he didn't have much leverage. Suddenly, the simulation flickered, and Stella and Chase were back in the simulation chamber. "They're done already?" Bellona gasped. Stella and Chase came out of the chamber, laughing and giving each other high-fives and first-bumps.

"One minute and thirty seconds, _exactly_," Chase bragged.

"So close to beating our record!" Stella commented, as she and Chase took their seats again.

"Impressive," Fury admitted, "but there are still some things S.H.I.E.L.D. can teach you. Now, we're going to…" The rest of the day was spent in the simulation chamber, but without a simulation running. They just needed the padded floor so they could learn to flip each other over their shoulders. Coulson taught him and Bellona the basics to hand-to-hand combat, while Stella and Chase sparred under Agent Hill's supervision. Nick felt really stupid, standing there learning about the importance of having a center of balance while Chase and Stella had already moved on to the the ass-kicking part.

But Coulson was a fast teacher, and Bellona and Nick were fast learners. By the end of the day, they were sparring, too, although admittedly a lot less impressively than Chase and Stella. Coulson seemed impressed by Nick's flips and tricks, but everytime he thought he was going to win one, Bellona knocked him over with a gust of wind or made him slip on the newly icy ground.

"Break 'em!" Coulson encouraged, as Nick struggled within the bonds of Bellona's vines. "You've got super-strength, use it!" So, Nick concentrated all his energy on pushing outward, and _SNAP_!, the vines broke. "That's it! Now would be the time that you would use your strength to thrash her against the ground and kill her, but we're not going to do that, because rule number one is 'don't kill your teammates'." By the end of the day, Nick had learned twenty different ways to flip someone over his shoulder, Bellona had only lit Coulson on fire twice, and no one had killed any of their teammates. Fury, Coulson, and Agent Hill ushered them back into the waiting room, where their parents were seated on the benches, deep in conversation.

"...no, I'm telling you, Pizza Rolls are the greatest shit out there," Tony was saying, "they're like sex, only Steve has them sometimes."

"Tony, I have a son," Steve deadpanned.

"They're like sex, only Steve has them more than once," Tony corrected.

"Nick is my second kid!" Steve exclaimed.

"Wait, what?" Natasha cut in.

"Well, I mean, technically the first one came out dead. But it was in there! It was in a woman's stomach and I put it there! So that time a supervillain tried to use me as a virgin sacrifice to whatever weird god it was worshipping? Not gonna happen again," Steve claimed proudly.

"Yeah, Steve, I don't think there was ever really a risk of that happening more than once," Clint pointed out.

"They're like sex, only people don't get really shocked when they find out Steve has had them," Tony said.

"Ahem," Fury cut in, "I'm sure this is a very stimulating conversation about Pizza Rolls and Steve's sex life, but it's time for you to take care of your children." Steve looked up at Nick, eyes wide.

"You didn't hear any of that, did you?" He asked. Nick nodded.

"That was more information about your sex life than I ever wanted to know. So basically it was any information about your sex life," He replied. Just then, Stella tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey! I, um, saw all those flips and stuff you were doing. Do you dance?" She asked. His face burned.

"No! I mean, um, not that there's anything wrong with male dancers. That's totally cool. I'm just, uh, not a male dancer," He stammered. Stella raised her eyebrows. "I do gymnastics," He said, "which is kinda like dancing, but not, and I should shut up now." She giggled, and he was a bit taken aback, because he didn't know the girl he'd just watched snap a simulated neck even could giggle.

"Well, I've been choreographing this acro-jazz piece, but I need a partner. A male partner. You should come over sometime, I could teach it to you," She suggested. Nick's jaw dropped, and he struggled to regain composure.

"Yeah, sure! That sounds awesome! I'll just, uh, call you! Or you can call me. Or not. You don't have to do anything. Oh my god…" His face turned redder than Natasha's hair, and Stella laughed again.

"I'll call you. What's your number?" She asked, pulling out her phone.

"It's, uh, it's…," Nick trailed off, realizing then he didn't know his number off the top of his head. "Dad," He said, cringing, "what's my number?"

"Number?" His dad asked, "What are you talking about? You don't even play football anymore."

"Not my jersey number, my phone number!" Nick cried. He could hear Stella laughing. "Oh, wait, I have my phone with me. That was stupid. Sorry." He laughed nervously as he pulled out his phone and read his number off to her.

"Thanks," She said, still smiling, "I'll call you."

"Stella!" Tony called, "Let's go!" She flashed him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," She said, "it's like he can sense when I'm talking to a boy that isn't him or Chase. Gotta go." She waved, before walking off to stand with her dad, and Nick realized he was still holding the shield. He turned to Agent Hill.

"Uh, where should I put this?" He asked.

"You can keep it," She replied, "I'm sure your dad could give you a few pointers." Just then, he felt his dad put a hand on his shoulder.

"So, you like the shield, huh?" He asked.

"He's a chip off the old ice block, Steve," Tony cut in. "Get it? _Ice_ block?" Steve gave him a totally unamused look.

"Tony, you're a terrible person," He said.

"Keeps me up at night," Tony replied. "Anyway, we have to go. I just broke up with JARVIS after a very committed eleven-year relationship and he's not taking it well."

"Bye, Nick," Stella said, and gave him what he thought might have possibly been a flirty wave. He couldn't breathe. He tried to reply, but all that came out was a weird squeaking noise. Tony grabbed Stella by the shoulders, glaring at Nick, and yanked her away before the two could converse any more.

Nick couldn't clear Stella Stark from his head for almost the entire car ride back home. He didn't even notice when his dad blew two red lights and almost flattened a cyclist. He couldn't think about anything but her shiny brown hair, her sparkling brown eyes, or the way she smiled at him and his insides turned to mashed potatoes. And she'd invited him over! Not officially, of course, but she'd mentioned possibly inviting him over. She had his number. That was progress. It wasn't until they were pulling into their parking garage that Nick could think about anything else, and he remembered an important question he had for his dad.

"Were you really used as a virgin sacrifice?"

"I am _not_ telling you that story."


	7. Chapter 7: Lesbians and Poop Sandwiches

**Here's chapter 7! This took a bit longer than I'd hoped, but I had to write it first, so there's that. And I also have exams, so there's also that. But anyway, here it is! Enjoy, and please review!**

**InsaneKids159: Glad you liked it, thanks so much for reviewing!**

**artemis62699: That was my favorite part, too. (Everyone, this girl is, like, my best friend. You should all go follow her. And Incitatus the Horse. Follow her, too.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.**

* * *

It was the first weekend since the kids had started at S.H.I.E.L.D. that Tony decided he should probably get lethally drunk and have a really good time, because now he didn't have to do it alone anymore. He had _friends_. So, with the help of Bruce, Clint, Natasha, and Steve, they arranged for the kids to go see some Disney movie and then make bad decisions for a few hours while their parents were getting re-acquainted. Tony decided he should host, since he had a kickass tower, a lot of alcohol, and also JARVIS had gotten attached to Tony during his eleven years as a recluse and was no longer letting him out of the house. Natasha and Clint arrived first, of course, as they were neighbors.

"Natasha," Tony said, as he opened the door, "I haven't been out of the house in eleven years. I need to get laid. This is a dire emergency."

"I will kill you in your sleep, Stark," Clint replied, "and then poop on everything you love."

"I didn't mean Natasha," Tony argued, "are you kidding? No offense, of course, but sex doesn't sound so appealing once you've watched someone kill a villain by seducing them and then snapping their neck."

"It's a pleasurable way to die," Natasha said silkily.

"I'll take your word for it," Tony replied. Bruce came next, bringing with him chocolate cake in a plastic container. Tony remembered, back when they all lived together, then Bruce was the resident cook, and after missions, he always made cake. The memory made him smile. It was just like old times. "Hey! You brought cake. This is why I love you," Tony greeted him.

"Ignore him," Natasha called from the kitchen, "he's desperate to get laid." They'd only just started getting drunk when Steve arrived, which was fine, because Steve couldn't get drunk anyways, so he was pretty much no fun.

"Look who it is! Our favorite virgin sacrifice," Tony said as he opened the door. Steve glared at him.

"That happened _one time_, Tony," He replied, before walking inside, muttering, "Jeez, you almost become a virgin sacrifice _once_, and no one ever lets you live it down."

Within ten minutes, they were gathered around the table, recounting old memories and catching each other up on their lives. Bruce told them he'd once gone Hulk on Bellona, and she'd calmed him down by teaching him the "I'm a Little Teapot" dance. Clint told them the story of the time Chase had walked in on him and Natasha, and asked, "Are you guys having a bird sound contest?" Tony told them about the time that Stella had figured out he was monitoring her conversations with JARVIS, so she went down to her room and asked, "JARVIS, how do you masturbate?" just to mess with him, and he'd nearly had a panic attack.

"...so, Steve," Tony finished, "you got any stories to tell us?"

"Yeah, we haven't heard anything about your wife. I don't even remember her name," Natasha prompted. Steve blushed.

"Well, uh, she's not really my wife anymore," He muttered.

"What happened?" Clint pressed.

"Clint!" Natasha scolded.

"It's fine," Steve assured her. "About a month after we had Nick, she decided she was a lesbian. And then she left." Tony burst out laughing. Bruce glared at him.

"How is that remotely funny?" Bruce asked.

"Because," Tony gasped, "I didn't know that actually happened in real life. I thought that was only in scripted reality TV and soap operas."

"Well, it happened," Steve sighed.

"Wait, wait, so let me get this straight: You had a kid, and then, like, a month later, she ran off with Ellen Degeneres," Tony said. Clint started laughing at this.

"Who's Ellen Degeneres?" Steve asked, confused.

"Nevermind," Tony dismissed.

"I still don't get how this is funny," Bruce deadpanned.

"They had a kid, and then she decided she was lesbian," Tony choked out, between bouts of laughter. Natasha cracked a slight smile, having caught on to where Tony was going. "That means Steve's sex was actually _so bad_ that it changed her sexual orientation." Now even Bruce was laughing, while Steve stared at nothing, a horrified expression on his face.

"Oh my god," He breathed, "you're right! And I've never had sex with another woman. Tony!" He grabbed Tony by the shoulders and shook him. "Tony, am I gay?!" Tony nearly fell of his chair. Clint did fall off his chair.

"Slow down there, Virgin Sacrifice," Tony panted, once he'd more or less recovered, "if you were gay, you probably wouldn't have married a woman. And had sex with her. Allegedly twice, although I find that hard to believe."

"But she married me and had sex with me twice, and she's gay," Steve argued.

"Still not really buying the whole 'twice' thing," Tony muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing! Look, Captain Queer and Questioning, I seriously doubt that you're gay. You would know by now," Tony assured him.

"Oh my god, I'm freaking out. This isn't funny. Why are you all laughing? I think I'm going into shock. Oh my god, oh my-"

"Steve!" Bruce cut him off, "I'm gonna do a quick, totally medical test to make sure you're straight, okay?" Steve nodded. "Okay. If Tony pulled down his pants right now, would you enjoy that?"

"What?" Tony cried, "Why me?" Bruce turned to him with a classic "bitch please" expression on his face.

"C'mon, Tony," He said, "your bromance is so strong it makes people uncomfortable."

"Thanks…?" Tony muttered. Bruce rolled his eyes and turned back to Steve.

"So?" He prompted, "Would you?"

"No!" Steve answered firmly, "Not at all! Ew. Never going to be able to get that image out of my head."

"Yeah? Well, the rest of us are stuck with the image of you having sex with a lesbian," Clint pointed out.

"Just the thought of Steve having sex with anything is weird," Tony added.

"Thanks, guys. It's so good to see you," Steve said sarcastically.

"JARVIS, put on a movie with hot chicks," Tony instructed, "I can't stop thinking about Steve in bed, and it's messing me up. I need alcohol and boobs." Natasha raised her eyebrows.

"Men are gross," She muttered. JARVIS turned on the TV, and put on Star Wars. For a second, Tony was like, What? Who's hot and topless in Star Wars? But then he remembered that JARVIS had a weird, computerized crush on Princess Leia, and they were probably going to end up watching Star Wars for the rest of the night. Oh well. He was okay with that.

It was towards the end of the night that Steve brought it up. They were watching Star Wars and eating cake Bruce made. (For a giant green rage monster that liked to destroy entire building with his fists, the guy was a wonderful baker.) It was towards the end of the movie, and everyone was half-asleep. Tony was more than half-asleep. He was, like, three-quarters-asleep. Maybe even five-sixths-asleep. Which was why he was pretty peeved when Steve poked him. He ignored it, at first, but Steve poked him again.

"Tony," He said. "Tony. Hey, Tony. To-"

"What?!" Tony snapped. Everyone was watching them now, Tony's loud cry having woken them up.

"What's for lunch?" Steve asked, a devilish grin on his face.

Tony laughed so hard he almost had an asthma attack. And he didn't even have asthma.

"Poop sandwiches," Tony gasped. Steve was on the floor, practically convulsing with laughter. Tony was crying. And everyone else was really, really confused.

"Um...," Bruce muttered, "_poop sandwiches?_"

"Men," Natasha scoffed.

"I feel like we're missing something here," Clint said.

"You are," Tony replied.

"The Poop Sandwich Story," Steve explained.

"I can't believe I'm asking this, but what is the 'Poop Sandwich Story'?" Bruce asked.

"Well," Tony began, "It's better than Star Wars, so we can turn this off."

"The Poop Sandwich Story requires your full attention," Steve explained. "Go on, Tony. Tell them." So Tony told them.

**The Poop Sandwich Story**

It all started because Tony had a miraculous inability to listen to Steve. It didn't matter if it was just training, or an actual mission, Tony always did the exact opposite of what Steve instructed. They usually ended up pulling off whatever they were trying to do, but it annoyed Steve, and eventually started to piss of the rest of the team. So Steve and Tony got called into extra training at S.H.I.E.L.D. to work out their "leadership issues".

At first, it sucked. They didn't want to be training. It was Sunday, and Tony had just introduced Steve to football. They were supposed to watch the Patriots/Broncos game today. Both of them were pretty peeved about it. So, instead of doing what Fury asked, they did the exact opposite. They failed every training exercise and got killed in every simulation. Fury was pissed. Tony and Steve were having the time of their lives. Then they decided to take it a step further.

They were frustrated about missing the football game, so they let Fury know. Whenever he ran a simulation, instead of fighting the simulated enemies, Tony would snap Steve's shield to Steve, and Steve would call out football plays, before hurling his shield as a ball. They were playing football with computerized super-villains. Fury was fuming, and was about to threaten them with more long, grueling hours of training, when Coulson came over.

"Sir," He'd said, "they kind of are doing what you asked. Steve's the quarterback. He's calling the plays, and Tony's listening to them. Isn't that what you wanted?" So Fury let them go. They'd missed almost the entire game, but neither of them was actually that upset about it. They'd had fun.

At that time, all the Avengers were living at Stark tower. It was lunchtime when Tony and Steve got home, and Bruce was cooking, as usual. As mentioned before, the Hulk makes a surprisingly good chef. Thor was watching the football game, and Steve immediately headed over and sat beside him on the couch, while Tony headed to get himself a drink.

"What for lunch?" Steve called. He was probably asking Bruce, but the Hulk was too wrapped up in his cooking too answer. So Tony did.

"Poop sandwiches," He replied.

And Steve fucking lost it.

Tony was appalled. "Poop sandwiches" wasn't funny at all. How old was Steve, three?

"Seriously?" Tony questioned, "You laugh at 'poop sandwiches', but not at my genius puns?" Steve couldn't answer. He was still laughing. And by that point, Tony started laughing, too. Mostly because of how hard Steve was laughing at such a stupid joke, but also, when you stopped to think about it, "poop sandwiches" was pretty funny.

It became a thing, after that. An inside joke, if you will. They could be anywhere; training, at the tower, on a mission. All Steve had to do was say, "What's for lunch?" And Tony would answer, "Poop sandwiches." And they'd both be in convulsions.

It was pretty debilitating, actually. Tony had pointed this out to Steve after they'd failed a simulation laughing over feces. "We could be fighting a villain," He'd said, "and all that guy would have to do is say 'poop sandwich'. And we'd both be goners." But Steve didn't catch the end of the statement, because Tony had said "poop sandwich" in the first sentence, and he didn't quite know why, but it was hilarious.

So, the moral of the story is, it doesn't matter how old you are, how mature you are, or how good you are at saving the world from power-hungry aliens in fancy green bathrobes, there's still nothing funnier than a poop joke.

**THE END**

"...so, yeah," Tony finished, "that's The Poop Sandwich Story. You're welcome."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Clint said.

"It's hilarious, and you know it," Steve argued.

"Hey, Bruce," Tony said, poking the angry green rage monster in the side. "Bruce. Bruce. Hey, Bruce. Br-"

"What?"

"What's for lunch?" Bruce sighed.

"...Poop sandwiches."

Tony and Steve were on the ground again.

"He said it!" Steve gasped. "Bruce said 'poop sandwich'!"

"Natasha," Tony choked out, "what's...what's for lunch?"

"I'm not answering."

"Yeah, you will," Steve argued. "Natasha. _Natasha_. Nataaaaasha. Hey, Natasha, what's for lunch? What's for lunch, Natasha? Natasha? What's-"

"_Okay_!" She cried, "Poop sandwiches! There, you win."

After Tony and Steve had recovered from their next laughing fit (Honestly, "poop sandwich" never got old.), they turned to Clint.

"Don't even try it."

"What's for lunch?" Tony and Steve chorused, completely in unison.

"Nope."

"C'mon, Clint."

"What's for lunch?"

"Not happening."

Steve and Tony continued to whine and wheedle to Clint, but he refused. They tried everything. They didn't give up that day. They called him unexpectedly and asked him what was for lunch. They left him voicemails saying they had Natasha hostage, and Steve was gonna have sex with her if Clint didn't say "poop sandwich". Unfortunately, she walked into the room at that moment, proving to Clint that Steve and Tony didn't have her. They even hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database and sent out an official looking survey entitled "Employee Satisfaction Survey". It only had one question, "What's for lunch?" They got about a hundred confused replies from various employees, a few responses of "poop sandwiches" from those that had heard the joke, and one, "NOT A FUCKING CHANCE STARK. I KNOW THIS WAS YOU BECAUSE COMPUTERIZED SURVEYS ARE TOO COMPLICATED FOR STEVE."

But they wouldn't give up. Someday, they would do it. Clint would say, "Poop sandwich", or Tony and Steve would die trying.

About twenty minutes after the poop sandwich story, around halfway through _A New Hope_, Tony decided he was bored. He'd seen this movie thirty times. And it was a Friday night, he was an experienced alcoholic, and he was at home watching movies and eating cake.

"We should go out," He decided.

"What?" Natasha asked sleepily, "Tony, it's, like, eleven o'clock."

"When did you become the fun police? That's Steve's job. We need to go out, get super wasted, make regrettable decisions, and then throw up a lot tomorrow," He said vehemently. There was silence for a moment, while everyone looked around at each other, considering this.

"Okay," Clint finally spoke up, "let's do it."

The rest of the night was kind of a haze of drugs, alcohol, and regret.


	8. Chapter 8: Last Friday Night

**Here's chapter 8! This one's short, but I promise the next one will be long. Please review!**

**InsaneKids159: I'm glad you liked it! Thank you so much for reviewing every chapter, I love hearing fromyou!**

**soccerstar0198: Thank you! One of my main priorities is to make it funny, so I'm glad you think so!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.**

**Oh, hey, guys, quick question: Do you want me to do a quick recap of the last chapter at the beginning of each new one? Some fanfics I've read do that, and I've found it's helpful. Just let me know if you think that's a good idea. **

* * *

Tony woke up the next morning to a text from Bruce. The loud beeps of his phone echoed painfully in his head, and all he could think was,_ Last night must've been pretty crazy, if even_ I'm_ hungover._ Lazily, he reached around his bedside table for his phone and flicked it open.

**From: Science Bestie xoxoxo 3**

**To: Me, The All-American Virgin, Katniss, The Boobs**

**Meeting at S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury's pissed. Also, my phone background is a picture of some chick I've never seen before, and I don't know how she got there.**

A moment later, more beeping sounded as another text came in.

**From: Science Bestie xoxoxo 3**

**To: Me**

**Call Steve. You managed to get him drunk with a lethal combination of weed, vodka, and chocolate syrup. If he's dead, it's ALL ON YOU**

**See, I'm so mad I just wrote a sentence with improper punctuation. No period on the end of that sentence. THE CLAWS HAVE COME OUT, STARK. BE WARNED.**

Groaning, Tony opened his voice commands ap and told it to call "The All-American Virgin". He waited as it rang painfully in his ear, figuring he owed it to Steve if he'd given the guy his first hangover in at least thirty years.

"Is this God? Am I going to heaven?" Steve's voice came crackling through the phone.

"Yes, Steve. It's God. You drank yourself to death," Tony replied.

"Your fault, Tony."

"I told you, I'm God."

"Are not. God doesn't give out weed."

"What do you know about god?"

"Tony, I know you're not God. Now please shut up before you crack my skull open."

"Things got a little _too_ American last night, huh?"

"That doesn't make any sense. Please hang up, I'm about to hurl and I don't know how to do it myself."

"Hurl? It isn't hard, Capsicle-"

"No, Tony, hang up. I know how to-" And the rest was lost in various gagging and splashing noises that Tony definitely could've done without. He cringed.

"Sorry," He muttered.

"I'll never forgive you. By the way, do you remember anything from last night?"

"I remember Clint getting so high that he cried hysterically for fifteen minutes straight because he doesn't have a superpower. Other than that, it's just a haze of regrets that I would totally do again."

"I don't understand how you do this on as regular basis," Steve moaned.

"Practice and a lack of concern for my liver," Tony replied. "You get Bruce's text?"

"I think it's really cute that you think I know how to get texts."

"Well, Fury called us all over for an emergency meeting. I think I'm getting a time-out. I'll pick you up in five."

"No," Steve whined, "I don't want to move. My whole body feels like a giant blob of pain and nausea."

"Too bad. I'm coming over. Don't die, okay?"

"I hate you."

"Cool. See you in five, try not to choke on your own vomit."

"I'm not making any promises."

"Just don't lie down, okay? Keep your head at a thirty degree angle. If you lie down then you're much more susceptible to choking on your own vomit. If you stay conscious, you'll be fine. But if you, like, fall asleep or die or something, make sure to elevate your head at a thirty degree angle first."

"You know a lot about this."

"I'm a genius."

"No, you've just been hungover a lot."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll have you know I've been sober for, like, 200 days."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Not in a row, just...in general."

"I just went from being really proud of you to supremely disappointed and concerned about your health."

Just then, Tony heard more beeping coming from his phone. "I gotta hang up," He said, "I'm getting a text." Steve groaned in reply, and Tony hung up before he heard more splashing and barfing. He opened his messages ap to see a text from Clint, and rolled his eyes.

**From: Katniss**

**To: Me, Science Bestie xoxoxo 3, The All-American Virgin**

**I just found my shoe in the freezer. What happened last night?**

**Re: I just found my shoe…**

**From: Science Bestie xoxoxo 3**

**To: Me, The All-American Virgin, Katniss**

**I drove you home. You took off your shoe when you got there, stuck it in the freezer, and said, "This is gonna confuse me so much tomorrow." I guess drunk you likes to play pranks on sober you.**

**Re: I drove you home…**

**From: Katniss**

**To: Me, Science Bestie xoxoxo 3, The All-American Virgin**

**That explains so much.**

Tony rolled his eyes, before tapping the "write your message here" box and tapping out a reply.

**Re: That explains…**

**From: Me**

**To: Science Bestie xoxoxo 3, The All-American Virgin, Katniss**

**You do know it's totally pointless to text Steve, right? He doesn't know how to receive texts. Oh, on a totally unrelated note, Steve's alive.**

**Re: You do know…**

**From: Katniss**

**To: Science Bestie xoxoxo 3, The All-American Virgin, Katniss**

**How do you not know how to receive texts?**

**Re: How do you…**

**From: Science Bestie xoxoxo 3**

**To: Me, Katniss, The All-American Virgin**

**I think the more important thing is that Steve's still alive!**

**Re: I think the more…**

**From: Me**

**To: Katniss, Science Bestie xoxoxo 3, The All-American Virgin**

**I know! I didn't kill anyone! Score! BTW, how did I manage to get him to drink?**

**Re: I know! I didn't…**

**From: Science Bestie xoxoxo 3**

**To: Me, Katniss, The All-American Virgin**

**I vaguely remember Steve saying he couldn't get drunk, and then you saying, "Is that a challenge?" And then you blended vodka, chocolate syrup, and weed together and told him it was a protein shake.**

**Re: I vaguely remember….**

**From: Me**

**To: Katniss, Science Bestie xoxoxo 3, The All-American Virgin**

**Sounds like me. I'm devious and deceitful even when I'm drunk. I have to go pick up Steve now, our favorite virgin sacrifice is a bit hungover and possibly dead.**

Tony quickly turned his phone to silent before Bruce could scold him about killing Steve, especially after he'd assured them all that Steve was alive. Honestly, Tony was, like, 99% sure he was. There was just that nagging 1%, and Nick Fury would really not be pleased if Tony had killed Captain America with illegal drugs, copious amounts of alcohol, and chocolate syrup.

Tony pocketed his phone and headed to Stella's room to let her know where he was going. She hadn't said anything when he stumbled back into the kitchen last night. Maybe she was just pleased he was getting out of the house. Actually, he vaguely remembered she'd been sitting on the couch with someone else. Someone who looked suspiciously like Nick Rogers...Tony shook the thought out of his head. He'd been so drunk last night, he couldn't trust his memory. Besides, he was, like, 99% sure Nick was gay. Again, though, there was that nagging 1%...

"Stella!" Tony called, banging on her door, "I'm leaving! I have to-"

"Pick up Captain Racist? I heard you on the phone," She replied, through the door.

"Fury said you're not allowed to call him that," Tony reminded her.

"Fury's not my mother," She shot back. Tony stiffened at the word 'mother'. Fury wasn't Stella's mother, Pepper was. And Pepper was gone.

"I'll be back in an hour or two," He told her, "don't light anything on fire." Stella promised she wouldn't, and Tony took the elevator down to his garage, picked out a car that he wouldn't be too disappointed if it got puked in, and started on his way to Chez Captain America. Tony didn't know exactly where Steve lived, but JARVIS knew everything, and Tony had his AL programmed into all of his cars. "JARVIS," Tony ordered, "give me Steve's current location." Steve lived in an apartment about 30 miles away from Stark Tower, so Tony had to drive for thirty minutes hungover. He knew you couldn't get arrested for that, and he'd been drunk so many times that this hangover was already starting to fade, but every time someone beeped their car horn, Tony was pretty sure a bomb had gone off in his head. Granted, he'd blended weed and vodka together and told Steve it was a protein shake, so he kind of owed it to the guy.

Tony arrived at Steve's apartment building at around 9:00, so he had about an hour to get to S.H.I.E.L.D. before Fury would be mad at him for being late _and_ intoxicating a national icon. Not that Tony really cared. Fury was mad at him so often it kind of became a typical part of his life. The guy was less of a leader for the Avengers and more of a babysitter for Tony. And a bad one, obviously.

Tony rode the elevator up to Steve's apartment and knocked on the door, and that idiot kid Nick answered. Tony couldn't stand Nick. The kid was all over his daughter, and Tony was not about to lose another member of his family.

"Is your dad home?" Tony asked icily.

"Yes," Nick replied, not moving from his place in the doorway.

"Well, I've come to take him to S.H.I.E.L.D., so you'll need to let me in," Tony said.

"Good luck," Nick scoffed, standing aside so Tony could step in. "His room's that way. He's in the bathroom." Tony followed Nick's outstretched finger to Steve's bedroom and stepped inside, and was hit full in the face with a blast from the past.

Besides the pictures of Nick all over the walls, Steve's room looked exactly like it had when Stark Tower had been Avengers Tower. The walls were beige, the floor was plain wood. The bed was a double, but only one side was unmade. Steve had always kept the unused side of his bed immaculate, although Tony used to joke that he didn't see why, as there would never be any girls sleeping in it. It appeared Steve still had the same habit. Maybe he was keeping the bed nice in case his lesbian wife changed her sexual orientation again. The dresser was pushed up against the far wall, but back in the Avengers Tower, the top had been completely vacant. Now, it was covered in family photos of Steve and Nick and what appeared to be college term papers. Still, if Tony ignored the "World's Best Dad" coffee mug on Steve's bedside table and the photographs on the walls, he was back in Steve's old room.

"Tony?" Steve's voice, although somewhat raspy and confused, shook Tony out of his flashback.

"Hey! Holy shit, are you seriously alive?" Tony greeted. Steve rolled his eyes.

"Barely," He muttered.

"Well, we have to go. Don't wanna be late for getting my ass chewed out by Fury. Do you have a bucket?"

"Why would we need a bucket?"

"Seriously? Why do you think we'd need a bucket?"

"Right. Bucket." Steve staggered off and returned a few minutes with a shiny, plastic, blue bucket. "Nick and I went to the beach once, and I got this so he could build sandcastles," Steve explained. "But that was a while ago, so I don't think he'll mind."

"I brought Stella to the beach once. I tried to go swimming, the arc reactor malfunctioned in the salt water, and I almost died. We don't go to the beach anymore," Tony replied. Just then, his phone beeped again. Steve jumped.

"What was that?" He demanded. Tony raised his eyebrows.

"My phone," He answered, "when I get texts, it beeps. I can't believe you're allowed to drive a car." Tony opened his text messages to another angry text from Bruce.

**From: Science Bestie xoxoxo 3**

**To: Me**

**What's taking so long? You told me Steve was alive!**

**Re: What's taking so…**

**From: Me**

**To: Science Bestie xoxoxo 3**

**I'm in his apartment. He's alive. I know, I'm surprised too.**

"We need to take a selfy to prove you're alive," Tony said.

"What's a selfy?" Steve questioned.

"A picture you take of yourself," Tony supplied, switching his phone to the front camera view and holding it out in front of him and Steve. "Say 'I'm not dead'!" Tony instructed. Steve threw up into his blue bucket. Tony looked at the picture and smirked. "Well, _that's_ great future blackmail."

"You know, there are a lot of days where I regret ever meeting you. Today is one of those days."

"Ouch. Seriously, Steve. _Ouch_."

"My whole body is 'ouch' and it's your fault."

"You didn't have to drink it, Capsicle. I mean, c'mon, you couldn't've _actually_ thought it was a protein shake."

Steve sighed. "I know. But everyone else was getting drunk and having fun. I thought it might be okay to…give it a go." Tony stared at him, blinking a few times.

"That is the most pathetic, sad thing relating to drugs and alcohol I've ever heard," He finally said.

"Life is hard when you can't get drunk," Steve sighed dramatically, "you wouldn't last two minutes."

"Would too."

"Would not."

"Would too."

"Would not."

"Get in the car. Or I'm leaving you here and you can drive yourself to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Tony herded Steve out of the apartment, into the elevator, and into his car. Steve clutched his bucket tight to his chest as they drove, and threw up three times before they arrived. By the time they were walking in the door, Tony had seven new texts from "Science Bestie xoxoxo 3", all saying various versions of, "Fury is so mad he's about to rip his other eye out." Tony practically had to drag Steve out of the car, and the super-soldier was not light. Once he was out, Steve was pretty okay on his feet, but he still swayed every three or so steps, so Tony had to stay right next to him to make sure he didn't fall over and die.

"This is the hardest thing I've ever done," Steve groaned, as he hauled himself up the stairs.

"Seriously? Do you not remember defeating the Red Skull? Or saving New York from an alien apocalypse? Or crashing a plane into freezing water and somehow surviving? This is _walking_, Cap."

"Walking _up stairs_," Steve complained. Tony rolled his eyes.

"You're hardly even walking," Tony pointed out, "I'm bearing, like, half of your weight.

"But _stairs_, Tony," Steve moaned.

"Yes, Steve. Keen observation. These are indeed stairs. And now we're at the top. Gold stars for everyone!" Tony shouldered open the door to Fury's office and dumped Steve unceremoniously into the first chair he saw. The rest of the Avengers were already seated. Clint was resting his head in his hands, a look of pure misery etched on his face. Bruce looked pretty okay, but definitely paler than usual. Natasha had a bucket held tight in her arms, her skin tinged slightly green. "Wait," Tony said to her, "are you hungover, too?" She nodded weakly. "Holy shit!" Tony cried, "I outdrank a Russian! I am _unstoppable_!"

"Tony, don't be so loud," Steve moaned, before dropping his head back into his bucket.

"Tony," Fury growled, "Do you have any idea what you've done?! I had to pay six journalists a thousand dollars to keep their mouths shut about what they saw last night. Tony Stark, the infamous recluse, emerges after eleven years to get shitfaced drunk! What were you thinking?!"

"...I was thinking that I haven't been out of the house in eleven years, and I'd like to get drunk," He replied.

"Last night, you texted me, at one in the morning, 'serious question time: do you own a pirate flag?'" Fury hissed.

"Well, do you?"

"Of course! But that's not the point! The point is that you're fifty-three years old, and you still need a babysitter!"

"Wait, I thought that was your job."

"Stark!"

"Look, Fury, bro, chill out. So, we went out. We had fun. We made some bad decisions. Clint yelled, 'No, _you_ put some pants on!' at a cop-"

"Wait, I did?" Clint cut in.

"Yup," Bruce confirmed, "and you stood up with Natasha on the bar, pointed to her boobs, and yelled, 'I _married_ her!' The whole bar cheered for you." Steve laughed weakly, still slumped in his seat with his bucket clutched to his chest. Clint whirled around in his wheely-chair to face him.

"Hey, don't get me started on what you did," Clint defended himself. Steve paled. "You were absolutely _insistant_ that the _entire_ bar knew it was peanut butter jelly time. And then you tried to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, and forgot it."

"You stood on the bar in a sheet-toga, held up a wine glass, and called yourself the Statue of Puberty," Natasha told him.

"Someone said we were out of ice, and you collapsed on the ground, sobbing. We asked you what was wrong, and you said, 'Where will all the polar bears live?'" Bruce recounted.

"Oh, yeah? Well, you and Tony stood on bar stools and sang the _entire_ element song. Someone threw a high heel at you. You kept singing," Steve shot back.

"Wait, did we?" Tony questioned. Bruce nodded.

"I think I remember that," He admitted.

"Science!" Tony exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air.

"That's not all," Clint cut in, "you played a drinking game with yourself where every time you did something you knew you'd regret in the morning, you took a shot." Bruce blushed.

"Yeah, but you're such a goody-two-shoes, you took a shot every time you talked to a stranger," Natasha added.

"Is it that bad to be concerned about stranger danger?" Bruce defended. "Besides, at least I wasn't as bad as Tony." Oh god, Tony thought, because he'd been known to do some pretty stupid shit when he was drunk. "You asked to feel this random guy's super long beard, and you were so high you did it for twenty minutes."

"You asked the D.J. to play 'Colors of the Wind' and then twerked to it," Clint added.

"Then we lost you, and an hour later, you sent me this text," Natasha said, holding her phone out.

**From: Narcissistic Man-Child in a Suit**

**To: Me, Clint, Designated Driver**

**sos I'm stuck in a ditch this is not a metaphor for my life send help**

"I'm in your phone as 'Narcissistic Man-Child in a Suit'?" Tony questioned.

"And why am I 'Designated Driver'?" Bruce asked.

"Irrelevant," Natasha replied flippantly.

"I finally found you, Tony, literally stuck in a three foot ditch on the side of the road you could've easily climbed out of. I asked you what happened, and you said, 'The ground tried to eat me!'" Steve added. Just then, Fury cleared his throat impatiently.

"I don't care about the multitude of stupid things Stark did," He growled. "What I care about is it not happening again!"

"Fine," Tony said, "won't happen again."

"I'd have to be stupid to believe you."

"You aren't?"

"You are on very thin ice, Tony Stark," Fury hissed. "It's become clear to me that the only way to get you to behave like an adult is to punish you like a child. So, next week, you're all going camping. All of you, and your kids."

"C-camping?" Tony stammered.

"Yup. No gadgets, no suits, and no lab."

Tony and Bruce lunged at him.

"Woah, woah, woah, Fury, buddy, that seems a bit drastic."

"_Tony_ got us all drunk, not me! Can't we just ban Tony from the lab and call it even?"

"I think you'll find I can do more damage out of the lab than in it."

"Enough! Not only will this hopefully teach Tony not to behave like a college student, but your kids need to bond as a team. Right now, I'm seeing Stella and Chase working together, while Nick and Bellona do what they ask and don't interact. They need to learn to trust each other."

"I think it'll be fun!" Steve spoke up.

"Of course you do," Tony groaned, "you can sketch sunsets and play frisbee like the fucking eight-year-old you are. Meanwhile, I will roll on the ground and die. Slowly. Alone. Without my lab."

"Someone take a video," Fury said with a smirk, "I'll enjoy that."


	9. Chapter 9: Echo

**Here's chapter 9! As promised, it's extra-long, which is why it took me so long to write it (sorry)! Please review!**

**InsaneKids159: Nick and Stella ****_do _****need a ship name! The best I can come up with is Stick, though, which is kind of an unfortunate ship name. Thanks for reviewing!**

**FadingEcho12193: Glad you liked it! That was probably one of the funniest chapters in the story, although I have one in the works that ****_might _****be funnier. Thanks for the review!**

**soccerstar0198: Thank you! Here's your update!**

**fabulous48: Thanks so much! I'll update as fast as I can, I promise!**

**So, no one told me if they wanted a re-cap of past chapters at the beginning of each chapter, so I'm just gonna do it until someone tells me not to. "Last Friday Night" Recap: Tony gets the team drunk, including Steve. Fury calls them to S.H.I.E.L.D. the next morning, and the Avengers struggle to remember the events of last Friday night. As a punishment, Fury sends Tony, the Avengers, and the Avengers Jr. on a camping trip. **

* * *

Bellona liked camping. After all, she was a superhuman made of the elements, and here she was, surrounded by them. Her dad hadn't loved the idea, but she'd convinced him it would be good for the Other Guy. The Hulk hadn't come out in a while, and Bruce had started to get pounding headaches as his monster roared and fought to be released. Bellona suggested that maybe getting away from the loud, cramped city would help. Still, he wasn't pleased to be away from all his sciencey stuff.

Bellona, though, liked it. They were on a small island, surrounded by clear lake water. The whole place was forest, except for the small, rock beach and the clearing where they'd made camp. She was currently sitting on the beach with Chase, Nick, and Stella. Chase and Stella were skipping rocks, while she and Nick sat quietly on the beach. Absently, she wiggled her fingers, causing the water to splash and dance.

"That's really pretty," Nick commented. Bellona jumped. Nick Rogers hardly ever said anything. Sometimes it was a shock just to hear his voice.

"Thanks," She said, smiling. He smiled back, and her heart pounded in her chest. _Oh god, he's so cute, oh god, oh god, oh god,_ She thought to herself, blushing. Nick had it all. Perfect blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, a gorgeous smile, and _amazing_ muscles. And he was nice, too, when he talked. Bellona had never met anyone like him.

"Can you skip rocks?" He asked, jerking his head to Chase and Stella. Bellona smirked, and flicked her fingers. A rock lifted itself from the beach and went flying over the water, skipping three times. "Wow," He said, "nice." Chase hurled his last stone, and he and Stella returned to sit with Nick and Bellona.

"This is kind of nice," Chase commented.

"I think my dad's having an existential crisis, though," Stella added.

"Mine too," Bellona said. Stella looked at her.

"He told me not to come in his room because he was writing an apology letter to his lab for leaving it."

"He took commemorative pictures of himself with all his lab stuff like he was _never_ coming back."

"He locked himself in his lab and cried for three hours."

"He ate all his meals down there, slept down there, and built himself a toilet down there so he would never have to leave his lab before the camping trip."

Bellona and Stella exchanged knowing looks, and said, in complete unison, "Science dads."

"I feel your pain on, like, a spiritual level," Stella said solemnly, "we should hang out sometime." Bellona's eyes widened. No one had ever asked her to hang out. She rarely left her apartment, and when she did, people called her "freak" and were scared to touch her.

"Seriously?" She gasped.

"Totally," Stella replied. "We can complain about our dads and go shopping."

"Go shopping? You actually want to go shopping?" Bellona practically squealed. She'd always imagined that having friends would involve going to the mall. It was something of a fantasy of hers, having sleepovers and walking the shopping center halls with her arms laden with bags, a friend on either side. She couldn't believe it might actually happen.

"Yeah! My dad has the _worst_ taste. And it's kind of uncool to go shopping with a parent now, anyway, so shopping with Natasha is barely any better. We should totally go shopping, and then watch_ Mean Girls_ and eat chocolate," Stella said. Chase and Nick exchanged awkward looks.

"Gonna be honest here, I'm feeling kinda replaced," Chase admitted.

"Who needs 'em? We can go do manly things, like...football, and...watching football, and...sports!" Nick floundered. Stella and Chase laughed, while Bellona looked at Nick, slightly dumbfounded. On the whole, Bellona probably knew Nick the best, because Stella and Chase tended to buddy up and stick to themselves at training. And she couldn't _believe_ shy, soft spoken Nick Rogers had just made a joke. Suddenly, Bellona felt something warm ignite within her.

"There's a fire going," She said bluntly, "we should head back. It's getting dark."

"How do you know there's a fire?" Nick asked.

"I don't know. I've just always been able to tell. When it's snowing, when it's raining, when there's a fire, I guess it's just kind of a sixth sense," She explained.

"That's really cool," He told her. She blushed and grinned like a total dork, no reply coming to mind. She was sort of kind of maybe developing a small/medium/huge crush on Nick Rogers.

"We should get going, then," Stella cut in, her voice sounding a lot less friendly.

"Yeah!" Nick immediately answered, "Do you, uh, want some help?" Bellona's smile faded. Stella giggled.

"With what?" She asked.

"Um, well, these rocks are kinda sharp, so, I could, um, carry you, or something…," Nick stammered.

"Stella can _walk_, thanks," Chase cut in, his voice cold and protective. And just like that, Bellona saw that warm, happy, laughing team from a moment ago disintegrate. They weren't a team anymore. They had only known each other a week, and already, people were ganging up on each other. Bellona liked Nick. Nick liked Stella. Stella liked Nick, and felt threatened by Bellona. Chase was best friends with Stella, and felt that Nick was going to replace him in Stella's eyes. And none of them really cared much for Bellona. She could never imagine any of them going into battle and trusting anyone else to have their backs.

Together, with Chase standing in between Nick and Stella, Bellona standing beside Nick, and Stella flashing threatening looks at Bellona, they traipsed back to their clearing. Clint was restringing his bow, and Natasha was polishing a set of knives. Steve was sketching a flower, while Tony sat with his head in his hands, staring desolately at nothing, looking like someone just gave him a puppy and then stole it. Bellona's dad had given up on the whole "no science" thing, and was currently examining some moss under a microscope.

"What if eyebrows were under your eyes?" Tony asked, sounding distant and aloof, still staring off into the forest.

"Tony...what?" Clint replied, shaking his head.

"What if you had arms for legs and legs for arms?" Tony said.

"What's up with him?" Chase asked, sitting down beside his father.

"He's going into science withdrawal," Natasha replied, not looking up for her knives. "At first he just kept spewing all these ideas he had for his suits, but then it just got out of hand."

"I have a lot of thoughts," Tony said absently.

"This is depressing," Stella sighed. Bellona sat down next to her father and started playing with the bonfire, making it grow drastically and then shrink to tiny, glowing embers.

"Stels," Tony said, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder, "go get your guitar. Isn't that what corny camping people do on corny camping trips? Sing corny campfire songs?"

"I don't think I know any campfire songs."

"Whatever. Just get it. It might help me feel less spiritually empty." Stella rolled her eyes, and ran off to her tent to retrieve her instrument.

"Moss is boring," Bellona's father complained, "I feel like a middle schooler learning how to use a microscope. I hate my life. I want to die. For the day. And then come back."

"Woah, that seems a bit drastic, doesn't it?" Bellona replied.

"I don't know. I don't question myself. That's what I have you for."

"I'm honored."

"Okay guys, time for campfire songs!" Stella announced, sitting back down on the log with a guitar resting across her lap.

"Play The Campfire Song from Spongebob!" Clint cheered.

"What's Spongebob?" Steve questioned.

"You depress me more than this entire experience," Tony replied.

"I don't know The Campfire Song, Clint," Stella said, ignoring her father and Steve. "The closest thing I know to campfire music is Imagine Dragons."

"What's Imagine Dragons?"

"Steve, just stop talking. At all. Forever. Just stop," Tony sighed sharply. Stella laughed, arranging her fingers on her guitar.

"This song is called 'Underdog'," She said, "and, I don't know, I just think it has a nice beat." She started strumming, and about a measure in, started singing.

_Early morning, take me over_

_Father, father, father,_

_take me to the top._

The lyrics didn't make any sense to Bellona, but Stella was right, the song was catchy. She started tapping her foot in time, and saw almost everyone else doing the same. Except her dad, who had no rhythm whatsoever.

_Early morning, wake me up._

_Father, father, father,_

_this is not enough._

Stella had a beautiful voice. It was high, clear, and simple, something that floated through your ears and left you feeling good. Bellona liked the showy, vibrato, broadway singers just as much as the next person, but there was something about the simplicity of the way Stella sang that was easy to listen to.

_Hey, that sounds like my luck._

_I get the short end of it,_

_I'd love to be, I'd love to be the underdog._

Bellona felt like all of the Avengers and Avengers Jr. could relate to that. Her dad and the rest of his team had been called in when the world was desperate, and thrown into battle before they'd gotten the chance to even get to know each other. Immediately, they had to trust and rely on each other in a ruthless battle everyone expected them to lose. The stakes were high and the competition was rough, and the Avengers had definitely been the underdogs. As for the Avengers Jr., she was sure all of them felt like they'd been set up to fail. They were the children of the world's greatest heroes, how could they ever live up to their parents? The bar was high, and so far, they weren't doing a great job of reaching it. If anyone was an underdog, it was the Avengers Jr.

_Early evening, settle down._

_Father, father, father,_

_who am I to blame?_

_Early evening, hush me over._

_Father, father, father,_

_are we just the same?_

Stella, Bellona, Nick, and Chase could all relate to that line, "Father, father, father, are we just the same?" It was their universal struggle: not being the same. They wanted to differentiate themselves from their parents, but nothing they ever did seemed good enough. Something clicked for Bellona, then. Maybe the reason the Avengers Jr. struggled so much to be cohesive was because they were all so desperate to do their own thing. Working on a team just didn't come naturally to people whose life long goal was to be independent.

Stella played through Underdog, and then a few more folky Imagine Dragons songs, and then some über corny song called _All I Want is You_. It was basically a lot of metaphors like, "If I were a flower growing tall and green, all I'd want is you to be my sweet honey bee." And then a few weird ones, like, "If you were a floor, I'd be a rug," and, "If you were a river in the mountains tall, the rumble of your water would be my call." Clint put his arm around Natasha and the two swayed as she sang, and Nick made eyes at Stella. Tony glared at Nick. Steve stared off into the distance, probably thinking about his lesbian ex-wife or that girl he'd known in the 1940s. Bellona's dad looked down at her, smiling warmly, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him just like she had when she was a child, cuddling with her daddy at night as he read her a story.

_If you were a wink, I'd be a nod._

_If you were a seed, well, I'd be a pod._

_If you were floor I'd wanna be the rug._

_And if you were a kiss I know I'd be a hug._

Bellona supposed this wasn't a song you were supposed to share with your father, but she didn't care. She didn't have anyone else to share it with, and there was no one in the world she loved more. And if he was a wink, she'd be a nod.

By the time Stella had finished All I Want is You, it was pitch black. The fire and the moon illuminated all their faces, and gave each of them a warm, reddish glow. It reflected beautifully off Natasha's hair, making her seem like a fire herself.

"One more?" Tony asked. The group nodded. "Play something slow," Tony requested.

"Slow? That's not very campfire-y," Stella pointed out. Tony shrugged.

"I know. But it's late, and slow songs are good for, like, sleeping and stuff," He replied.

"Not that you would know anything about sleeping, Stark," Natasha cut in. Tony rolled his eyes.

"I know a slow song, but it's kinda sad," Stella warned.

"Play it," Nick encouraged, speaking up for the first time during their sing-along. Stella raised an eyebrow. "I, um...your voice is nice," He muttered.

"Thanks," She replied, smiling. Bellona forced herself to act indifferent. If her liking Nick was going to get in the way of her friendship with Stella, she could stop liking Nick. She'd never had any girlfriends, but she'd always heard that you were supposed to put sisters before misters. So, Stella could have Nick. Bellona would take one for the team. Besides, Nick liked Stella, not her, anyway.

Stella arranged her fingers and started strumming four simple chords in a steady rhythm. Bum-da-da-da-da, bum-da-da-da-da, bum-da-da-da-da.

_Hello, hello, anybody out there?_

_'Cause I don't hear a sound._

_Alone, alone, I don't really know where the world is,_

_but I miss it now._

* * *

Natasha felt the song hit her like a punch in the guts. It was a song about being alone, and Natasha could relate to that. She could relate to wondering if there really was anybody out there. She could relate to searching for someone to talk to, and feeling like the world is empty even though you're surrounded by people.

_I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming your name,_

_like a fool at the top of my lungs._

_Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright,_

_but it's never enough._

_Just my, echo, echo,_

_is the only voice coming back._

_My shadow, shadow,_

_is the only friend that I have._

It was the day she'd found out Chase was on the way. She and Clint hadn't really been trying, but they'd stopped using protection, and last night they'd tried. So, she thought, just to be safe, she should take a test. She'd done this before. She and Clint had stopped not trying about three months ago, so pregnancy tests, while still a bit scary, were old news to Natasha Romanoff.

She remembered being the only one home. They hadn't lived adjacent to Stark Tower yet. They only moved there when Chase was four, after Pepper died, and Tony had called Natasha, begging her to move closer to him to give his daughter a mother. Clint had been out on some errand for S.H.I.E.L.D., and Natasha hadn't been called in for this one, so she stayed home. It was early in the morning, so she'd been somewhat happy not to have to go in. She'd had a lazy day, waiting until 10:00am to get out of bed. After breakfast, she went to the bathroom to take her pregnancy test. She didn't think that much of it while she was taking it. She thought of it as a routine part of her day, something she had to take care of before she could get on with the rest of her plans.

Then she saw the little, pink plus sign.

She'd taken three more tests before she believed it. _Oh god, oh god, oh god,_ Was all she could think. This was her worst nightmare. She was panicking, hyperventilating, practically sobbing. Where was Clint? She needed him. Where was he? I can't raise a child, She'd thought, I can't be a mother. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't, I can't, oh god, I can't do this.

After taking a few deep breaths, she called Clint. She promised herself he'd be thrilled, and making him happy would help calm her down. His smile was the only thing that ever could.

_You've reached Clint Barton. I'm probably out saving the world right now. You're welcome. Leave a message, and I'll call you back as soon as the earth isn't in mortal peril._

She'd lost it when he hadn't picked up. She heard the robotic voice of the answering machine, and it was so cold and so empty. Clint's voice wasn't like that. It was lively and warm and she needed to hear it. Where was he? What was taking him so long on his mission? It was supposed to be easy! Oh god, what if he never came back?

"Clint," She'd breathed, her voice cracking in the middle as she broke into a sob, "I-I need you to come home. Please, just come home soon. I'm okay, I just-please. I need you to come home. I..._please_."

Then she'd hung up, and stared out her window at the many New Yorkers traversing the street. How were they doing that? How were they just going about their daily lives, when Natasha's whole world had just stopped spinning? And how were there so many people down there, and not one of them could help her? She was surrounded by strangers. All around her were the thousands of people that lived in the city, and she just needed one of them. She just needed Clint, but he wasn't there. And she was so, so alone.

_Just my echo, echo_

_is the only voice coming back._

_My shadow, shadow,_

_is the only friend that I have._

* * *

Steve had never heard a song and felt that he could really relate to it. He'd never heard a song and been like, "Oh, yeah, man, this is my jam!" He'd never felt that he was listening to his theme song, that he'd lived the words the artist was singing. He liked music and all, he'd just never really read that far into it.

But this was different. As soon as he heard the words, "Alone, alone, I don't really know where the world is, but I miss it now," he was back in time, waking up in that room at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. He was staring, dumbfounded, at the streets of New York, and learning he'd slept for seventy years. He was being told that the war was won, and it was now 2013.

He was realizing that his world was lost in the past, and everyone he'd known and loved was dead.

And those lyrics, I don't really know where the world is, but I miss it now-he'd lived them. He'd gone under in a different time, in a different place, in a different world. Then he'd woken up, and even after everything had been explained, he'd searched frantically for the life and the people he'd known before. And he missed it so much. He was so lost here, so confused and out of his time. And even though for most of his life in the 40's, he'd been a scrawny, sickly, dorky kid with one friend to his name, he'd belonged. He hadn't nearly gone into shock every time he looked out his window. He hadn't been afraid to go to sleep, for fear of waking up with everyone gone again. And he hadn't been so _lost_.

It was the worst before the Avengers. At least then, he had people he trusted and liked to guide him through this new, confusing time. Before them, he was on his own to navigate the bright, loud, dizzying 21st century. He had no one to talk to, no one he trusted, no one who could help him. When he tried to talk to Peggy, all he could hear was his own voice, reverberating against the walls of his apartment. Just his echo, the only voice coming back. And he needed her _so_ badly. And he could see her face so clearly as Stella sang.

_You could come and save me._

_Try to chase the crazy right out of my head._

* * *

_I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name,_

_like a fool at the top of my lungs._

_Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright,_

_but it's never enough._

Bruce had been out on the edge. He'd screamed at the top of his lungs. He'd pretended that he was alright, and it had never, ever been enough.

Bruce was a monster. He was an intelligent, calm, friendly scientist, but he was a monster. And what most people didn't was when that monster took control, Bruce was still in there. Some little part of him was still thinking, "I shouldn't break the entirety of New York City. That's not a good thing to do." And that part of him was always fighting, always screaming, always trying to get out. But, honestly, nerdy old Bruce Banner against the Hulk? Not even a fight. He always lost.

For a while, he'd let it weigh him down. He was always on the edge. Trying to avoid stress ended up stressing him out. He became a pressurized container of fear, a tightly wound rubber band ball, a grenade ready to blow. He hid himself from the world, because he could hurt them. He forced himself to be alone, where no one could get to him, and more importantly, he couldn't get to them. He hid himself places where sometimes he would scream just to hear a human sound. And then he would close his eyes, and pretend everything was fine. He would pretend everything was normal. That the Hulk was just a horrible nightmare that had never really happened. But just like Bruce Banner, even in Hulk form, always knew what the Hulk did was bad, he knew, in the back of his mind, that nothing was fine, nothing was normal, and his monster was very, very real.

That had been a dark place. And he was back there again when he heard Stella sing those lines, "I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name like a fool at the top of my lungs. Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright, but it's never enough."

* * *

Clint sat, watching everyone else watch Stella, and something seemed heavy in the air. Natasha had leaned farther into his embrace, and he tightened his arm around her. Bruce was staring into the fire, his eyes fixed on the flame, his shoulders hunched and his posture slumped. Steve was the opposite. He sat ramrod-straight, his head up but his eyes looking nowhere. Clint had seen this behavior from all of them. Natasha turned to him when she was upset. Bruce hunched in on himself when he was just tired of everything he had to go through. Steve's posture became more stiff and robotic when the past wouldn't let him go.

Clint knew why. This song was getting to them all. It was a song about being your own only friend, when the only voice you could hear was your own echo, and the only person with you was your own shadow. They could all relate to that. Hell, everyone in the world could relate to that. Everyone had felt alone. Clint had felt alone.

He remembered it clearly. They had just finished a grueling day of training, and were just gathering their things to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. Nick Fury had met them by the door, and he hadn't looked happy. Then again, Fury never really did, but this was different. Fury never really showed emotion, but this time, he'd seemed almost...sad.

"What's up, Sir Nicholas?" Tony asked.

"You don't need to come to training tomorrow," Fury replied. This shocked them all.

"What?" Steve was the first to speak, "But tomorrow's Thursday! We always have training on Thursday. And Friday. And Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday. And sometimes Saturday and Sunday."

"Thank you for listing the days of the week, Steve," Fury said, "but we've decided to reduce the hours that you have to come in."

"Reduce them?" Bruce asked, "To what?"

"Nonexistent," Fury answered, with a hint of what sounded like remorse in his voice. "The world hasn't needed the Avengers in years, and you're more than ready for anything when we do."

"We're not saying you guys aren't a team any more," Coulson spoke up, "we're just saying...um, you're not..._necessary_. We'll call you in when we need you, but as of right now, we don't."

"Harsh," Tony muttered. And it was.

Clint remembered going home that day, back when Stark Tower was Avengers Tower and they all lived there together, and going straight down to his room. He'd locked the door, sat down on his bed, and stared at nothing for a solid hour. It seemed like he'd just lost everything. The adventures, the daring missions, the epic battles, it was all over. They simply weren't needed anymore. And what was worse, Clint could see this crazy, dysfunctional family they'd developed falling apart. Steve was marrying that waitress chick in like, what, a month? This was exactly what happened to the Beatles! John married Yoko and then it all went to hell.

Clint knew that chapters of your life ended to make way for new ones. Of course, at the time, he hadn't known that this chapter was ending so he could marry Natasha, have Chase, and start a family. All he'd known was that this was the best chapter of his life, and he didn't want it to end. They'd had so much fun together, done so much stupid shit, and made so many memories. How could it be over? How could the world not need the _Avengers_?

They were his best friends. Possibly his only friends. They were everyone he loved, and he was going to lose them. It would start with no training hours. Then weeks would pass with no missions. Then Steve would get married and move out. Then Tony would marry Pepper, and kick the rest of them out. Bruce would go somewhere remote where he couldn't be found. Thor would go back to Asgard. Natasha would go back to being a normal S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and live at the headquarters. As for Clint, he didn't know what he would do, or where he would go. He'd probably buy a crappy apartment and live there like a normal person. Alone. His own echo would be the only voice he'd ever talk to, and his own shadow would be the only other person there.

* * *

_I don't wanna be an island,_

_I just wanna feel alive and,_

_get to see your face again._

Tony had never heard Stella play this song before, but she sang it like she'd done it before. He thought he knew why she'd never shown this to him. It hurt. This part, especially, hurt. She made quick eye contact with him as she sang these lines, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing, Pepper.

Tony remembered the day he found out she was gone. She'd been in hospice for a month, and he'd spent as much time with her as he could, neglecting everything else but Stella. Because deep down, he knew that when he lost her, Stella would be all he really had left. Pepper was asleep, as she'd been most of the time, and her heart monitor flatlined. The doctors immediately ushered Tony out of the room, but he pushed against them. He'd shouted and begged for them to let him stay, but then he heard Stella. His daughter let out a high, confused, terrified wail, and he immediately scooped her up into his arms.

"It's okay, Stels, I promise," He cooed. The doctor again pushed him towards the door, and he complied. He wanted to get Stella out of there.

"_Mommy_!" She'd cried, reaching out towards the door.

"Not right now, Stella," He'd said. "Mommy can't hold you right now."

"I want Mommy," She whispered.

"I know, I know," He replied softly, "so do I." Then they sat, and they waited. He held Stella in his arms and rocked her as she cried, promising her it would be okay, that he would make it okay. He knew he couldn't. But for her, his daughter, all he had left of Pepper, he would try.

The doctor came out fifteen minutes later. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark," He said, and Tony understood. Stella understood too, though she was only six. She was smart. And right then, he wished she wasn't. He wanted to tell her that Pepper was just sleeping, and that she was very tired, so she'd be sleeping for a while. He didn't want her to know that her mother had died.

He brought Stella home that night, tucked her in, and headed back to his own room. Surprisingly enough, he didn't try to drink the pain away. Pepper wasn't someone you could wash away with alcohol. Pepper was bright, warm, and permanent. Nothing he ever drank, smoked, or did could erase her. She was so perfect, and he loved her so much that it made him hurt.

He cried for a while. He curled into a ball on his side of the bed and cried. He couldn't see past that moment. He couldn't imagine ever getting over her and on with his life. And he was terrified. How could he do this without her? How could he raise Stella to be a happy, healthy, not-fucked-up kid without Pepper, who was considerably more healthy, happy, and less fucked-up than he was? He couldn't run a family. He didn't know how to take care of things! If he couldn't fill it with alcohol, he was kind of lost. And he didn't want to mess Stella up. She was all he had left, and he loved her. He wanted to give her the best life he could. How could he do that with Pepper gone?

Then Stella had toddled into his room and plopped a book down on his bed. It was D'aulaires' Book of Greek Myths. He'd always told her to stop it with the mythology crap, because none of it was real and it completely defied any type of science, but for some reason, she loved it. But he wasn't in the mood to read her a story, and he was about to tell her that, when she said, "In this book, when people die, they go down instead of up."

"Stella," He replied, his voice cracking and thick with tears, "none of that's real."

"In this book, the people all have to ride on a boat through a river of other dead people. And they ride past a giant three-headed dog. But I bet Mommy isn't scared at all," Stella continued. Tony laughed a bit.

"That's right. I bet she told it to sit and leave her alone," He said.

"Then some other people judge all the dead people to decide if they're good or bad. And the bad people get punished, and they have to push rocks and stand in lakes. The normal people go to the normal place, and they just walk around and do nothing forever. And the really good people go to the Elysian Fields," Stella told him. He was a bit shocked his six-year-old could pronounce "Elysian Fields". "They get to live in pretty houses and there's lots of rainbows and they have parties all the time. They're having a party now, because it's Christmas. Mommy loves Christmas." Stella never used past tense when talking about Pepper. She still didn't.

"Mmhmm. She always threw a big party here, and invited all these people I pretended to know," Tony said.

"Mommy's going to the good place, Daddy. She's going to see lots of rainbows, and it'll always be Christmas, just for her," Stella finished. "And she'll watch us. She's not really gone. She just had to go down to the good place early, so she could get her house ready for you." Tony lost it when Stella said that. He pulled her into his arms, held her tight, and cried.

And from then on, he knew he had to take care of Stella. He had to make sure everything was perfect for her, because that's what Pepper would have done. Stella was here for him, so he had to be there for her. He had to protect her and guide her and make sure she was happy. He wasn't sure if he was ready, but he would get there. He had to. And he knew that once he was done, once Stella was grown up and on her way, Pepper would have their house ready down in the good place. And finally, he would get to see her face again.

* * *

Stella knew her song was hitting home with everyone, but especially her dad. Everyone had felt some aspect of this song. They could all feel it. Stella, too. She'd lost her mother when she was six. She understood being alone. So, with Pepper's face in her mind, she finished her song.

_I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name,_

_like a fool at the top of my lungs._

_Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright,_

_But it's never enough._

_Cause my echo, echo,_

_Oh, my shadow, shadow._

_Hello, hello,_

_Anybody out there?_


	10. Chapter 10: Team Building

**I finally have chapter 10 up! Sorry it took so long, but it's a super-long chapter, so that makes up for it, right? Please review!**

**InsaneKids159: (Spoiler Alert!) Nick and Bellona never get together. This chapter isn't sad, but it isn't quite as funny as some of the others. I promise you a hilarious next chapter, though, mark my words! I'm glad you liked it, thanks for reviewing!**

**soccerstar0198: Thank you! Glad you liked it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. Isn't that just a load of poop sandwich. Oh well.**

* * *

**"Echo" Recap: The Avengers and The Avengers Jr. go camping, and Bellona develops a crush on Nick, who likes Stella. Tony and Bruce do not handle camping well. Stella plays "Echo" at the campfire, and the Avengers each reflect on a time they felt alone. Tony reminisces about Pepper, and that Christmas night she died. **

* * *

Chase knew they weren't a good team. And he knew he had a hand in it. If he could just learn to tolerate Nick Rogers, things would improve by a landslide. But he just couldn't stand the guy. He was all over Stella, and it wasn't like he _like liked_ her, because Chase was certain Nick Rogers was gay. No, Nick wanted Stella to work with him. To be _his_ partner. Nick wasn't an idiot, he understood that Stella was good, and if he wanted to do well, he should get her help. But that wasn't going to happen. Stella was Chase's partner. Chase and Stella. Stella and Chase. A team.

There was also the fact that Bellona seemed to like Nick, and Stella seemed to have a problem with that. Chase didn't get it. Could they not see that Nick wasn't into girls? The two girls were both powerful and great assets to the team, and if they could just learn to get around the Nick thing, they could work flawlessly together. And it was an easy fix. Nick didn't like either of them, Chase was sure. Nick was gay.

The camping trip was supposed to fix their teamwork problem, but it hadn't done any good. In fact, it seemed to have made things worse. Alliances, friendships, crushes, and animosities had been established, instead of the team overlooking these little things and becoming closer and more in sync. That wasn't good, Chase knew. This wasn't going the way it was supposed to. But it would work itself out, eventually. Besides, hadn't their parents struggled to be cohesive when they were first put together, too?

That day, the Avengers Jr. were gathered at S.H.I.E.L.D. It was their first day back from the camping trip, and Fury was expecting results. He wanted a united, cooperative team, and he wasn't going to get one.

"So," He said, as he stepped into the room, "was Mission Camping a success?"

"Mission?" Stella echoed, "I'm sorry, how is skipping rocks and singing campfire songs a _mission_?"

"It was meant to draw you closer as a team, Ms. Stark," Fury growled. "Right now, I see four individuals doing their own thing, with the occasional flash of partner-work from Stark and Barton. I need a team."

"Oh. Well, then no, I'd say that was a failed mission," Stella replied nonchalantly. No one argued. Fury sighed.

"Fine," He said, "we'll do this the old-fashioned way. Agent Coulson, Agent Hill?" The two agents stepped to the front of the room, carrying packets of paper in their hands.

"We've compiled a series of team-building activities," Coulson said. "You will complete as many of them as it takes for you to become a cohesive team."

"What are we gonna do, trust falls?" Chase scoffed. Coulson gave him a pointed, unamused look.

Twenty minutes later, Chase found himself in the padded simulation chamber, arms out as he fell backwards into Nick Rogers' arms. They were supposed to have switched fifteen minutes ago, but Nick was an eighteen-year-old super-soldier, and Chase was a fifteen-year-old assassin. Nick was heavy and muscular. Chase was slight and wiry. Chase didn't think he could catch Nick if he tried, and he honestly didn't think he _would_ try.

"We've been doing this for twenty minutes," Bellona groaned, as she fell backward into Stella's arms, "don't you have any _other_ team-building activities?"

They did. They had hundreds of other team building activities. They walked each other, blindfolded, through a simulated obstacle course. Stella let Bellona trip over a log and fall into a pond. They played Human Knot. Nick "accidentally" pulled Chase's shoulder right out of its socket. The four of them divided into two teams, stood on either side of a simulated mud pit, and tried to grab the rope hanging over the pit without stepping in the mud. Chase recommended swinging their smallest member out like a human hook, without taking into account that he was the smallest member. Nick ended up grabbing him by the ankles and whirling him around like they were doing a hammer toss and Chase was the hammer. It would've worked, but Nick let go, and Chase went careening into the pit.

"Well," Chase said sarcastically, watching the simulated mud dissolve off his body as the simulation turned off, "this was a _great_ idea. I think we've really come together and learned to work as a team."

"Sorry," Nick muttered. Chase glared at him, rubbing his sore shoulder.

"I could drop-kick you from here to Cancun if I wanted to, Rogers," He growled.

"But you're not _going_ to," Stella cut in, "because rule number one is…" The rest of the team joined in at this point, saying, in unison, "Don't kill your teammates." The group laughed, while the two agents and Director Fury glared at them. This rule had been repeated many times over their two weeks of training, as Stella and Chase came dangerously close to killing the other two in training activities.

"Laugh all you want," Fury snapped, "we'll keep doing these activities until you take them seriously. You're supposed to be learning how to save the world, and instead you're wasting all of our time with stupid-ass games meant for middle school sports teams." This successfully shut them up. They were herded silently out of the simulation chamber and into the waiting room, where there parents were seated. Well, most of their parents.

"Where's my dad?" Stella asked, groaning as if she already expected the worst.

"And mine," Bellona added.

"They went down to the lab as soon as we got here," Steve replied. Suddenly, a loud explosion sounded.

"And now they're having a contest to see who can make the biggest boom," Natasha finished.

"Seriously?" Stella gasped, "I wanna play!" With that, she ran off down the hall towards the lab. Bellona waited a moment, before shrugging.

"Yeah, I kind of do, too," She admitted, before racing off behind Stella.

"Can I-"

"No," Clint cut Chase off, "you may not go join the boom contest." Chase was about to ask why, when they heard another boom, a crash, and a scream.

"I'M ON FIRE!" Tony wailed, "GODDAMIT, BRUCE LIT ME ON FIRE! _AGAIN_!" Tony came racing into the room, flames clinging to his shirt, with Bellona close behind.

"Just hold still, I can put it out-"

"'Hold still'?! I'm on fucking fire!"

"Tony, I'm so sorry, just stand still for one second-"

"Bruce, you are so dead to me! Oh my god, oh my fucking god. I'm on fire. I'm on _fucking_ fire!"

"Hold still!"

"_I'M ON FIRE!"_

Bruce made a flying leap and pinned Tony to the ground. Bellona took her chance and doused the two in water, successfully extinguishing Tony. Nick looked a little shocked, but to everyone else, this was old news. Chase had seen Tony light himself on fire, Stella light Tony on fire, or one of Tony's weird robots light Tony on fire countless times.

"I am locking you out of Tony and Bruce's Super Secret Science Clubhouse forever," Tony threatened. Bruce gave him a look like someone had just kicked his puppy.

"Wait, you named the lab Tony and Bruce's Super Secret Science Clubhouse?" Clint questioned.

"But I've been in there, like, twenty times! How is that at all Super Secret?" Steve argued.

"It has a nice ring to it," Bruce replied.

"Yeah, Steve. _Alliteration_. Look it up," Tony added.

"Okay, but it's still not super secret," Clint pointed out.

"Why do you have to question everything?!" Tony snapped, "We took poetic license. Besides, now it's just _Tony's_ Super Secret Science Clubhouse." Bruce crossed his arms.

"That is so not fair. I light you on fire once-"

"Oh, it was so not _once_. That was, like, the fifth time."

"Right, because _you've_ never lit _me_ on fire."

"Totally beside the point."

"Okay," Clint said, placing a hand on Chase's, "we should go before it gets bloody." He turned to Stella. "You want us to give you a ride? This could be a while." Stella shrugged.

"I'm fine," She replied, "just give them ten minutes, and they'll be reminiscing about the time they turned a can of Axe Body Spray into a flamethrower." Tony gasped.

"Remember that?"

"Oh my god, that was awesome!"

Stella raised her eyebrows, gesturing to her father and Bruce. "See?" She said. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Alright, then. Last chance. We're leaving." Stella assured them she was fine, and Chase, Clint, and Natasha left Bellona, Stella, Bruce, and Tony at S.H.I.E.L.D. drove home. Chase's parents grilled him about training as they drove, but there wasn't much to tell. All they'd done was team-building, and it hadn't worked. "I wouldn't sweat it," Clint said, "it took us a while to really become a team, too. Like, no one really liked Tony except Bruce, and Bruce didn't really trust anyone, and Steve was really fucking confused all the time. But it all came together in the end."

"All it takes is a life-threatening, bloody battle with aliens and a power-hungry weirdo in a gold reindeer hat," Natasha added.

"Yeah, I don't think we'll be getting one of those in the near future," Chase sighed.

"What your mother's saying is, you need some real experience. Fury needs to get you an actual mission, put you out in the real world. Once you're up against the wall, you'll realize the importance of working together. What it takes is an enemy, y'know? Something real to fight," Clint explained. Chase thought about that, and it made a lot of sense. Maybe the reason they were failing these activities so miserably was that none of them saw the point. They all thought it was stupid, and if they didn't do it properly, they all knew it was no big deal. Maybe if they were put in a real situation, where their actions and ability to work together as a team actually mattered, they'd do better.

"Alright," He said, "seen any super villains that need to be defeated lately?" Clint chuckled.

"No, but you're not quite ready for a full-scale supervillain yet. You need, like, a bank robbery, or something," He suggested.

"A bank robbery?" Natasha scoffed, "Clint, Chase and Stella handle those all the time. Without being asked. Just because they're bored. If Fury asked them to take care of a bank robbery, Stella and Chase would just complain about having to drag Nick and Bellona along."

"Fair point," Clint admitted, "maybe they _do_ need a supervillain."

"A _supervillain_?" Natasha cried, suddenly going into protective-mother-mode, "Clint, are you crazy? They're kids! Chase's only fifteen!" Clint smirked.

"And you said you didn't want him," He said.

"Wait, what?" Chase cried.

"Nothing, honey, Mommy loves you," Clint teased. Natasha punched him in the arm, and the car swerved dangerously. Clint slapped her lightly in return, and Chase kept a close eye on the two of them. It was all friendly punches and slaps until the assassins started to come out. Fortunately, that usually only happened when Clint refused to ask for directions, ("I know where we're going, Nat!" "You do not! We're in the middle of buttfuck nowhere! I swear, Clint Barton, I will snap your neck if you don't just _open Google fucking maps._")

Natasha pulled into parking lot beneath their building, and the family stepped out. The few people in the lobby gave them a wide berth as they walked towards the elevator. The Bartons were known to be generally friendly people, but it was also no secret that the two parents had trained their son to kill a man 137 different ways with his bare hands. People were scared of them. Understandably, they didn't get invited to too many dinner parties.

Chase's parents had just stepped into the elevator, when a familiar face burst into the lobby. She was panting, her face flushed and her eyes wild with fear. Chase furrowed his brow.

"Bellona?"

"Chase!" She cried, running over to him. "I-I was just going to the grocery store, they came out of nowhere, I didn't see them-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" He cut her off, "Slow down." She nodded, gasping for breath.

"I was going to the store, when these men dressed in black jumped out of nowhere and stole my bag. I guess I could've gotten them with my powers, but I didn't want to use them in a public place. I chased them all the way here, but they've probably already gotten away by now. I don't know what to do. Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm just-I'm freaking out-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," He assured her. He turned to his parents. "What should we do?" Clint smiled knowingly.

"I think you should handle this one, kiddo," He said. "After all, we were just saying you need a real enemy." Chase nodded, took his bow and quiver from his mother, and raced out into the street with Bellona.

"Do you see them?" He asked.

"There!" She cried, pointing. He saw three men in black hoodies rounding a corner and running out of sight.

"Alright, here's the plan," He began. "We'll go around the other side of the building and cut them off. You distract them. Start shouting that they took your bag. Call attention to yourself. I'll blend into the crowd, and take two from behind. You get the other one with your vines, and I'll call the cops. Got it?" Bellona nodded. "Okay then. We're running out of time. Better go, now." The two turned and bolted through an alleyway between Chase's building and Stark Tower. Just as they rounded the corner, the three thieves came around the other way. "I'm gonna try to blend into the crowd," Chase said. "Don't freak out, I'll still be here. Do your thing." Bellona nodded, and the two parted ways. Chase watched as he crept around behind the thieves, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, and Bellona ran towards them, pushing through people and creating a scene.

"Help!" She screamed, "Help me! They stole my purse!" Confused murmurs echoed through the crowd, and a man offered to call the police. The thieves exchanged nervous looks, and prepared to bolt.

Just as they were about to run, Nick nailed a kick right in the back of one's head. While he was dazed, Nick slung his bow right over the guy's head, so the bow string was rubbing against his throat, and held him in a choke hold.

"_Now_!" Chase shouted. Bellona's vines shot forth and wrapped another in their tight hold. The remaining thief looked frantically between Chase and Bellona, before charging at Chase. With his bow still slung around the first thief's neck, Chase knocked an arrow and pointed it at the remaining enemy. "Don't move," He ordered. "Don't move an _inch_, or I'll shoot. And I _never_ miss." The thief froze. Chase turned to the man who had offered to call the police, now huddled with the rest of the terrified group, staring at the spectacle before them. He still had his phone out, his mouth slightly agape. "Call the cops," Chase of the corner of his eye, he saw the third thief, the one not trapped in vines or a bow, start to move. Instantly, he loosed his arrow. It embedded itself in his enemy's leg, and the thief fell to the ground, clutching his wound and moaning. The crowd gasped.

The police took fifteen minutes to arrive. The whole time, Chase kept his bow tight around the man's neck, and his arrow pointed at the thief on the ground, still grabbing at his injury. Bellona's vines stayed firmly in place, tightening whenever their captive struggled. The crowd didn't move a muscle, all of them breathing heavily as if they were the ones who'd just been in a fight.

Eventually, the police came and collected the thieves. Bellona and Chase watched the cop cars drive away, still slightly in shock at what had just happened. Chase had busted muggers all the time, but always with Stella. It was rarely even a fight. He was never worried he would lose. That time, he'd been worried. And it was helpful, in the end. Humbling, even. He needed a healthy dose of uncertainty, or he'd get too cocky. He and Stella worked so seamlessly together, and their plans never went ary. He had never had to worry about something not working, or had to think on his feet. That time, he had. He'd had to think on his feet a bit when the untrapped thief moved. He hadn't been planning to shoot him, but there'd been no other option. This was important, he realized. They all had room for improvement, even him and Stella. They had to learn to react when the unexpected happens, and successfully complete a mission even when the plan fell apart.

"Chase Barton," Bellona finally spoke, "you are one badass fifteen-year-old." Chase grinned. He often forgot how much younger than the rest of the team he was, but it always nagged at the back of his mind. He was always somewhat concerned they weren't pleased to have a baby on the team, and that none of them liked him because he wasn't "mature" like they were. But Bellona, at least, didn't care.

"Thanks," He said, "you're not bad yourself. Old age hasn't quite taken its toll on you, yet." Bellona laughed.

"Seriously, though," She replied, "thank you. I had no idea what to do."

"Couldn't have done it without you," He told her.

"Yeah," She muttered with a smile, "I guess that's teamwork."

* * *

Stella thought it would be at least three years before S.H.I.E.L.D. called her in for an actual mission. After all, Stella's "elite team" was currently an "elite group of conflicting individuals". They weren't quite ready for combat situations yet. But, lo and behold, it happened. Stella got a text from Nick Fury saying she needed to report to HQ immediately for a mission, and this is not a fucking drill, Stark, so don't you just put your phone on vibrate and ignore this text.

"Dad!" She shouted down the hall, "S.H.I.E.L.D. needs me to kill someone, or something!"

"What?" His confused voice sounded from the lab, "Why? You've only been there for, like, a week! Technically, you're not their slave. Yet."

"I know," She replied, "but Fury specifically stated that 'this is not a fucking drill', so I think I have to go. I can drive myself. I'll be home in, like, two or three hours." She grabbed her coat, rode down the elevator, and hopped into the least flashy car in the garage. She didn't like fancy cars. In her opinion, if anything screamed, "douche", it was driving around in a shiny convertible with white leather chairs that had to be driven while wearing sunglasses at all hours of the day. Her dad loved it, but then again, her dad was a bit of a douche.

She took her time getting to S.H.I.E.L.D. She figured this was just the beginning of them calling her in for every little disturbance they were too lazy to handle themselves, and she wasn't going to rush over like this was oh-so-important and urgent. If they wanted Stella Stark, they would have to wait.

As it turned out, she arrived in Fury's office only fifteen minutes after she'd been summoned, which she supposed didn't exactly give the "I don't care" impression she'd been going for. Fury was there, with his usual sidekicks, Hill and Coulson. Stella didn't mind Agent Hill at all. She had good combat tips, and had slipped Stella some chocolate when she'd had to come to training during her time of month. But Coulson got on her nerves. The guy just always had this sort of confidence about him, like he could handle any situation thrown at him, when Stella was certain she could take him down in seconds. All he had to do was say the word, and she'd have him in a choke hold.

Nick Rogers was there, too. That confused her, unless her urgent mission was to make Rogers not suck. In that case, she may as well give up now. She was not up to that task. He looked up at her when she entered, and his confused expression mirrored hers. What could Fury possibly want the two of them to do together? That was a disaster waiting to happen. Stella liked Nick a lot, as a person. But once he was in a combat situation, it was like everything in his brain just shut off. He completely froze, and even when she told him what to do, it took him too long to react to attacks. He frustrated her. And being frustrated with your partner on a mission wasn't good.

"Well, look who decided to join us," Fury mused, as Stella sat behind Nick.

"So I'm a bit late. What are you gonna do, make me walk the plank on your pirate ship?" She shot back. Nick laughed, but turned it into a cough when Fury turned an angry eye on him.

"Ms. Stark, you'll soon learn that this sort of smart-assery will not be tolerated," He warned.

"Really?" She scoffed, "Because my dad has gotten away with some pretty impressive levels of smartassery. I would say he surpassed smartassness right into the realm of douchebaggery. And he lived to tell the tale."

"If your father's genius and skills weren't so sorely needed, I would've capped his ass the day I met him."

"Alright. Well, not that I'm even the slightest bit worried you could even _try_ to cap my ass, but it appears that _my_ genius and skills are sorely needed, as well. So, let's lay off the ass-capping for now."

"Do you want to know why you're here?"

"I'd rather know when I can leave."

"_Ms. Stark._"

"Fine. Whatever. Tell me why I'm here."

Fury took a deep, calming breath Stella supposed was to help him refrain from killing her on the spot. Not that he could if he tried, she was sure. He was old, and having one eye made for a serious lack of depth perception. And Stella could take down non-ocularly-impaired, young people easily. Nick Fury would be a breeze.

"There's been a string of minor gas station robberies for about a month now, and the police believe they've found the culprits," Fury began.

"I'm sorry, gas station robberies?" Nick cut in, speaking for the first time, "Isn't that not really S.H.I.E.L.D.'s department?"

"Yes, Mr. Rogers, and raising teenagers isn't really our department either. We're stepping out of our comfort zone," Fury snapped. "Anyway, as a training exercise to build your trust in each other and ability to work as a team, you'll be handling the situation. The police think they have a pretty definite idea of which station the culprits will be targeting tonight. Your job is to intercept them there, stop the robbery, and hold them until the police arrive."

"Hold on a second," Stella said. "So, we're just stopping a minor robbery?" Fury nodded. "Fine. Easy. Done. Just let me do it alone, or with Chase. I'll even take Banner."

"Hey!" Nick cried.

"Oh, come on, Nick. Do you honestly believe you're gonna do anything but slow this down and make it harder?" Stella pointed out.

"No," Nick admitted, "probably not."

"You're taking Rogers," Fury said firmly, "it'll be good for both of you. Nick, you can watch Stella and learn a few things about being in a real combat situation. Stella, you'll learn to work with different people. You and Barton are getting too comfortable with each other. Not everyone has the same style, or will be as willing to work with you. You need to be ready for that."

"Fine," Stella sighed, "Private America can tag along. I've just got one question. Are these male robbers?" Fury raised an eyebrow, as if wondering why she wanted to know that, but answered.

"Yes," He said.

"Wonderful, that makes my job easier," Stella replied. "C'mon, Nick. I'll drive. But we have to make a pit-stop first."

Ten minutes later, Nick Rogers was in her bedroom. It had taken some pretty serious sneaking around to get him up here without her dad seeing and thinking they were doing things they weren't, but they'd managed. Now, Nick was sitting in her desk chair, watching her prepare for the mission.

"Alright," She said, as she traded her loose T-shirt for a tight, red tank top. "Here's the plan." She ducked into her closet to quickly slide into a black mini-skirt, then darted back out. "I'm going to seduce them. Y'know, make them think I'm not a threat. Catch them off guard." She grabbed a holster, slid a gun into it, and buckled in securely around her ankle. Then she slid her combat boots over it, and checked in the mirror to make sure it looked inconspicuous. "Hopefully, I can get one of them to, like, kiss me or feel me up, or something. I'll start protesting." She slipped on a leather jacket. "You'll be hiding this whole time, and listening through this." She handed him an earpiece. "When I scream, and only when I scream, you can come out and take them down from behind. I'll break character and help you, as you obviously won't be able to do it alone. Got it?" She took two chop sticks and slid them into her hair, now arranged in a bun.

"If you're trying to seduce them, I think your hair looks better down," Nick offered. She turned to him, raising her eyebrows.

"Thanks for the input, Rogers," She replied, "but everything I'm wearing is a weapon. These chopsticks are metal-tipped, and sharp. I could stab you right through your skin with them. Combat boots are an obvious choice, because they're currently in fashion, but they're also great for smashing faces in. And I have six knives hidden in this jacket." She grabbed what appeared to be a tube of lipstick off her desk. "See this lipstick?" He nodded. "It's my suit."

"Wait, what?"

"My dad and I designed a technology that allowed the suit to compact into different forms. It can be a suitcase, a ball, and, most conveniently, lipstick. This way I can carry it around inconspicuously, and when I need it, I just open the tube. It unpacks itself and assembles on my body. Cool, huh?"

"Yeah, cool. And scary. But mostly cool."

"I'm a scary girl, Nick Rogers. But mostly cool."

Nick smiled at her, looking at her like he'd never been more fond of anything in his life. "One thing's for sure," He said, shaking his head, "you are one of a kind, Stella Stark."

Stella had never heard anything more wonderful in her life. She'd always wanted to be one of a kind, but her whole life, she'd been treated like a re-run, a sequel, a clone. Nothing special, just something that had already been done before. But here was Nick Rogers, saying she was one of a kind, and not because she had a cool suit or could kick butt. Simply because she was her, and that was what he liked most. No one else had ever liked her just for her.

"Thank you," She said, "you're pretty special yourself. Now, let's go. We've got some ass to kick." The two of them headed out of Stella's room, talking and laughing like nothing had happened between them.

"You know, we don't curse like that in my house."

"Rogers, are you kidding me? You're eighteen. You can't tell me you've never heard the word _ass_."

"I've heard it, just never said it."

"Seriously? Oh my god, you're, like, twelve."

"I am not."

"Fine. Say it."

"What?"

"Ass."

"_No_!"

"This is so ridiculous. Whaddaya think I'm gonna do, wash your mouth out with soap?"

"My dad might."

"Nick, that's child abuse. He's not gonna wash your mouth out with soap. Say it, and I'll return to you your title of eighteen-year-old."

"Fine..._ass_."

Stella burst out laughing. "Oh, god!" She cried, "Look at that! Oh, jesus, your cheeks are turning all red."

"That's the worst thing I've ever said."

"Oh, c'mon, Nick. Things must get heated in the Rogers household every now and then. That's when you break out the big guns, the gosh darn's and the oh my's."

"Not really. I said 'damn' once, and I had to put a quarter in the swear jar."

"A quarter in the swear jar?" Stella gasped with mock drama, "Nick! A worse punishment there never has been!"

"Yeah, well, I'm just glad my dad still hasn't really figured out money. A quarter to him is, like, a lot."

"A quarter's, like, half a gumball, Nick. A half a gumball that you will never get back."

"I'll manage. So, where are we going?"

By this point, they had gotten in Stella's car, and were on the road. Stella checked her phone for the location Fury had promised to text her. True to his word, it was there. Stella told JARVIS to find Shell Gas Station, and put directions up on the GPS. As always, he complied, though Stella thought his weird crush on the female GPS voice might have had something to do with his speedy obedience. Stella turned the radio on, and she and Nick listened to some older classics as they drove. Nick nodded along to every song, and tapped his toe occasionally. Everytime he did, Stella would look over at him, eyebrows raised and smirking. Nick would just shrug, smile, and continue tapping. It wasn't until _All Summer Long_ started playing that he sang along.

_It was 1989, my thoughts were short, my hair was long_

_Caught somewhere between a boy and man_

_She was seventeen and she was far from in-between_

_It was summertime in Northern Michigan_

He grinned at her as he sang, and she watched him with an amused expression. He didn't have a bad voice. It was nothing special, but that meant it wasn't especially bad. He hit a few bad notes and stumbled on the words here and there, but overall, he was pretty okay. By the chorus, Stella found herself joining in.

_And we were trying different things_

_We were smoking funny things_

_Making love out by the lake to our favorite song_

_Sipping whiskey out the bottle, not thinking 'bout tomorrow_

_Singing "Sweet Home Alabama" all summer long_

It wasn't a new experience for Stella. She and Chase rocked out to Radioactive every time it came on. That song made her want to stop a zombie apocalypse. But somehow, this was different. Here, in her father's car, with Nick Rogers, it didn't feel like just singing along to the radio. It felt like it meant something. This moment was important. Stella could feel it.

She would've loved to stay in that car with Nick Rogers, singing _Sweet Home Alabama_ all summer long, but they were nearing their destination. She turned off the radio, ignoring Nick's confused look, and pulled the car over out of sight of the gas station. Then she pulled a set of binoculars out of the glove box and fixed them on Shell Gas. The four thieves were hanging out in front of the convenience store, smoking and drinking. They wore dirty jeans and sweatshirts, and were laughing and cursing as they hurled empty beer bottles into the distance, presumably seeing who could throw the farthest. Stella handing the binoculars to Nick.

"Alright," She said, "this is my cue. Watch and listen, okay? And don't move until I scream. Got it?"

"I'm not arguing," He began, "but why is it so important that I wait until you scream?"

"Because, we're a team. And the team members need to be in on the plan. The idea is to catch the thieves off guard. But if you come running in there while I'm not ready, it'll catch me off guard. And that jeopardizes the mission," She explained. "Not that I'm worried we'll fail it. But I'd like things to go smoothly, if possible."

"Got it," He replied, "I'll wait 'till you scream."

"Perfect. Gotta go." With that, she sauntered away from the car and towards the station. When she came into view, the criminals stopped in their game of throwing beer bottles and stared at her. One of them whistled his appreciation at her. She turned and looked at him, smirking. "Thanks," She purred silkily, before continuing towards the convenience store.

"Where you goin'?" One called.

"Over there," She said, gesturing towards the store, "why? You want to stop me?"

"You bet I do," He replied. His friends cheered and whistled. She glanced toward the store, before looking back at him.

"I guess I got a few minutes to spare," She told him, changing course and walking towards him and his friends.

"Girl, you got it in all the right places," He complimented. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

"What are you doing?" She asked, allowing a hint of nervousness to seep into her voice.

"Don't be scared, girl. You got such a nice rack here, it'd be a shame not to touch it," He said. He started to move his hands towards her chest, but she slapped them away.

"N-no," She stammered, " don't."

"You know you want it."

"Really, I-"

"C'mon, girl." He placed his hands on her chest, and she tried to push them off.

"Stop!"

"Don't it feel good?"

"No! No, I don't like that!"

"Hold still, girl."

"No!"

"DON'T TOUCH HER!"

And suddenly, out of nowhere, Nick Rogers came barreling into the scene. The thieves were too shocked to move. Nick rammed shield-first into the one who'd had his hands on Stella's chest, and he fell to the ground, unconscious. Stella glared at Nick. She hadn't screamed. This was exactly what she'd told him not to do. Why couldn't he do _anything_ right?

"What the fuck, Rogers?!" She demanded. The remaining thieves unfroze.

"It's an act!" One cried.

"They with the police!" The other concurred. In an instant, they both drew guns and aimed them at Nick and Stella.

"Please don't kill him," Stella begged sarcastically, "I want to do it myself." One of the thieves fired. Instinctively, Stella tucked her head and pulled Nick down with her, somersaulting out of the way and ducking behind the building. "How do you manage to fuck up so supremely?" She hissed, "Is it just a natural behavior, or do you walk into every situation wondering what you could do to make sure it goes wrong?" A gunshot sounded. Stella grabbed Nick's arm and pulled his shield up to guard them both. "See?" She snapped, "I just had to move you're fucking shield _for you_."

"Language," He muttered.

"You're _eighteen_!" She hissed angrily. "Look," She said, taking a deep breath, "we're more or less safe here. It's nearly impossible for them to shoot us from where they are, since guns can't fire around a corner. And if they come out, we could open fire on them. But that doesn't mean they can't run away. And I will _not_ fail the easiest mission in the history of mankind because of _you_, Nick Rogers." She unzipped her combat boot, pulled out her gun, and handed it to him. He nearly dropped it in surprise.

"What's this?" He spluttered. She fixed him with an unimpressed look.

"A _gun_, Private Dumbass," She answered.

"What about you?"

"I have a suit."

"I don't know how to use this."

"It isn't hard. Point and shoot. Besides, aren't you a super-_soldier_? Soldiers use guns."

"Fine. What do we do now?"

Stella sighed, gathering her thoughts. They couldn't stay here for much longer, the thieves would run away. Right now, they were probably hoping to kill Nick and Stella so they wouldn't be chased. But that wouldn't last for long. Soon enough, they'd see their best bet was just to make a run for it. _Think_, she told herself, _this isn't hard. You just need a plan._

"Alright," She said, "I know what to do. Since you screwed this up, you get to be the bait. Just get out there and shoot shit. I don't care what. Make a lot of noise. Get them to focus on you. And keep your shield up, they're gonna fire back. They want to kill us so we can't chase them if they run. That should give me time to put on my suit and get on top of the gas station. I can from above, which'll hopefully shock them enough for you to do the shield thing."

"The shield thing?"

"Yeah, you know, what you did with the other guy. Hit him with the shield. Knock him out. It was...actually not bad," She admitted, before hastily adding, "but you still fucked everything up."

"I know, I know," He sighed. "So, I just go out there and shoot? Can't be too hard. Even _I_ couldn't mess that up."

"I don't know, Nick, you're pretty good at it."

"Whatever. Let's just do it before they run."

"This is the worst decision I've ever made," Stella muttered, before she shoved Nick out into the open. Immediately, he ducked behind his shield and started shooting. He hit a few trash cans, some advertisements, and a car window, but no people. The thieves fired back, but Nick was safe behind his shield. Still, the shield didn't cover his whole body. Maybe she should go out there and..._no_, She told herself, _you are not jeopardizing the whole mission because Nick Rogers sucks._ So she forced herself to stop watching the fight, pulled out her lipstick, and uncapped it.

Immediately, pieces of her suit floated out and started to unfold and enlarge themselves. Like her dad's suit, they were attracted to the wristbands she wore on each wrist. Starting on her arms, the armor attached itself to her body until it encased her completely.

"Everything working, JARVIS?" She asked.

"All systems up and running, ma'am," His robotic voice replied inside her helmet.

"Awesome," She said, "let's fly. Also, memo to me: maim Nick Rogers when I get the chance."

"Noted, ma'am. Shall I record this information in my database?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I have not been programmed to answer that question, ma'am. It is a matter of opinion."

"Rhetorical, JARVIS. Rhetorical."

"I see. Pardon me, ma'am."

Stella's blue and black suit lifted her off the ground, and she started to sail into the air. Remembering how conspicuous and loud her suit was, she instructed JARVIS to do everything he could to turn down the volume and turn off the lights. To her amazement, the jets of fire lifting her into the air went out, and she remained flying.

"JARVIS, how...what?"

"Your father installed a gravity manipulation application in all of the suits, so as to fly less conspicuously, ma'am," JARVIS explained.

"Gravity manipulation," She mused, "the future is now, JARVIS."

"Noted, ma'am."

Stella landed softly atop the gas station convenience store. Nick and the thieves were still shooting at each other, and Nick occasionally ducked back around the corner. _Good_, she thought. For some reason she was glad he was keeping himself safe. Not that she should care, because his super-soldier healing would fix a bullet wound with no problem, and he screwed up the mission, so he deserved it. But for some reason, she didn't want to see him get shot. Maybe because she wanted that honor for herself.

She looked down and analyzed the situation. The two thieves were solely focused on Nick. The third was still unconscious. No one had seen her unpack her suit or fly up to the roof. If she was going to go, she would have to go now. So she leaped off the edge of the roof, and dove.

She shot one of the thieves with an energy blast before she even landed. Stunned, he fell to the ground, unconscious. The remaining thief stared at her in disbelief, gaping like a fish, his gun forgotten. Nick seized his chance, raised his shield, and smashed his enemy over the head. He dropped like a sack of grain, limp and heavy. Stella lifted her faceplate.

"Well," She said, "we won. But you still suck, Nick Rogers."

"Understood. So, what do we do now?"

"Draw moustaches on them while they're unconscious. What else?"

While they waited for the police, Stella flew back to the car to retrieve a Sharpie from the glove box. Then she and Nick doodled elaborate facial hair on their victims; everything from sideburns to goatees. The cops gave them very unimpressed looks when they arrived, but Nick just shrugged and said, "They were like that when we got here."

Afterwards, once Stella had compacted her suit back into it's lipstick form, she and Nick strolled through the darkness back to the car in silence. She was still mad at him. Maybe they'd won in the end, but he'd thrown her off. She wasn't used to things not going exactly right, and she had Chase to blame for that. The two just worked so seamlessly together. Maybe this was good for her, then. Maybe she needed a little experience when things went wrong. She was still mad at him, though. Hella mad.

"So, Nick Rogers," She said, as she slid into the driver's seat, a hint of venom in her voice, "would you care to tell me what the _hell_ that was?"

"What?" He asked.

"Oh, I don't know, just the moment when you jumped out into the open, screaming and yelling and jeopardizing the whole mission?" She snapped. He opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off. "I gave you a plan, Rogers. A very _simple_ plan, with _one important rule_: wait until I scream. And what did you do? You fucking jumped out and started shouting and waving your shield around, _before I screamed_! What the _fuck_, Rogers? What the fucking _fuck_?"

"I was just trying to protect you," He practically whispered.

Stella froze. All of the anger bubbling up inside of her disappeared. He sounded almost guilty as he spoke, like wanting to protect her was some sort of horrible crime. And maybe she should be offended that he thought _she_ needed _his_ help, but she was actually sort of...flattered. He had come running out and knocked out an armed criminal with a shield, for her. He had never been able to do anything like that in training, but when it looked like she was in danger, he was a different man. For _her_.

"To protect me?" She repeated, dumbfounded.

"Yeah," He muttered, blushing, "I know you don't need it, but that just looked so real-"

"It's fine," She found herself saying. "I mean, it's not fine, you should never jeopardize a mission like that. But the protection thing...that's actually really sweet. Thank you." He smiled shyly.

"No problem."

They drove back in silence, the sound of JJ Heller's _Where I Land_ coming from the radio. Stella listened intently to the lyrics as it played, and she could feel Nick watching her as he listened.

_You're different from the way I thought you'd be_

_But here you are in front of me_

_So full of light I watch it overflow_

_A lovely mystery_

It was funny how she could tell when he was looking at her. It was like some internal sensor went off, screaming, "He's watching you! He's staring at you! He's noticing you!" And he didn't look at her like she'd been looked at before. Stella had definitely been looked at. Countless boys at school stared at her, or her chest, as she walked to class everyday. But they only saw her looks, they only cared about what was on the outside. Nick Rogers watched her with a soft smile on his face, his eyes warm and overwhelmingly happy whenever he turned them on her, like he'd never seen anything better than the girl in the seat next to him. Stella had never felt like anything special. She'd always felt like a little sapling, trying to grow in the shadow of a giant oak, never able to reach the sun. But when he looked at her, the golden rays finally graced her skin. She was _someone_, to him. And that was all she'd ever wanted to be.

* * *

Nick had never felt anything like Stella Stark.

She was a specific feeling, to him. She felt like warmth, bubbling up from his toes all the way to the top of his head. She filled him with such a content, sunny feeling that he could hardly form thoughts. Somehow, she had gotten into his heart and into his mind, and messed everything up. But somehow, Nick was starting to think it had been messed up before, and Stella Stark had fixed it. When he was with her, he felt right.

She was so full of perfection. She was five feet of solid confidence, waltzing into his life and wrapping him around his finger. He had never seen her act the slightest bit confused, say anything the littlest bit stupid, or look anything short of perfection. The funny thing was, maybe she had done all of those things at some point. But to Nick, everything she did was perfect.

But she was more than that. She was so much more than just a perfect beauty. She was tough as nails, and he'd seen her in action. He'd seen those beautiful eyes full of danger and violence as she took down enemy after enemy. She wasn't just a pretty flower. She was pain that felt like comfort, terror that felt like happiness, danger that looked like beauty. Maybe that's why she had him so enamoured.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to turn to her and say to her that she messed him up in the best way. That he had never felt anything like what she made him feel. That when he looked at her, it was like he'd discovered the meaning of life. That she was slowly becoming anything and everything to him. But this was Stella Stark. She wasn't going to go for cheesy, lovesick lines like those.

"Well, I guess this is where I'll leave you," She said, pulling up in front of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Oh," He replied, "okay. Yeah. Um, good job. You know, with the mission." She smiled.

"You too. Sort of," She told him. He blushed, starting to climb out of the car, but she caught his arm and pulled him back.

"Something wrong?" He asked.

"No. I just, um...I'm glad you didn't get shot." With that, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

It was a wonder he managed to remember how to climb out of the car.


	11. Chapter 11: Ground Rules

**Here is a very short, (hopefully) very funny chapter. I'm hoping the humor will make up for the length. Please review!**

**InsaneKids159: Thank you! I worked really hard on that chapter, so I'm glad you liked it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. **

* * *

**"Team Building" Recap: Nick Fury meets the Avengers Jr. back at S.H.I.E.L.D. after the camping trip, expecting them to have become a cohesive group. They have not. Instead, the teens are even more divided than before. Agent Coulson and Agent Hill attempt to bring them together through cheesy team-building activities, to no avail. Clint and Natasha suggest that the team needs a real enemy and a real situation. Chase and Bellona capture a group of thieves who stole Bellona's purse, and learn to work together. Nick and Stella are sent on a minor mission to teach them to work as a team, and the two fully realize their feelings for each other. **

* * *

The Avengers Jr. had been training at S.H.I.E.L.D. for about four weeks when they and their parents were all called into Fury's office. Bellona could immediately see that everyone was more comfortable with each other. Chase actually smiled at her when she walked in, and gestured for her to sit next to him. Stella was on his other side, and she waved at Bellona as she sat down. Nick was seated next to Stella, and was staring at her like she was the only thing in the room. Stella looked like she knew, but she was steadfastly avoiding Nick's gaze, a pleased smirk on her face like she knew she was driving him crazy. Their parents sat on the other side of the table, Clint and Natasha exchanging strangling methods and Steve and Tony hunched over a piece of paper, actually _giggling_ about whatever they were doodling. Bellona's father sat down beside Tony and sighed.

"What are you two doing?" He asked. Tony held up the paper.

"Look!" He said, "Steve and I drew a poop sandwich!" Bruce took the paper, scrutinizing it.

"You didn't actually...oh my god. You did," He groaned. Then he held up the paper for Natasha and Clint to see. "They drew a poop sandwich," He announced. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Hell is real and we live in it," Clint said solemnly. Bellona exchanged a confused look with Chase, but Stella and Nick didn't seem the slightest bit perplexed.

"He thinks _that's_ bad?" Nick scoffed, turning to Chase, Stella, and Bellona, "We have a framed drawing of a poop sandwich in our bathroom. My dad's an artist. And he gets really bored."

"My dad actually designed synthetic, odorless shit so we could have an actual poop sandwich in our house without it stinking up the whole place," Stella said. "My dad's a scientist. And he gets _really_ bored." In response, Bellona shot a jet of fire out of her finger. Nick's chair caught fire, and Bellona instantly doused it in water.

"My dad is also a scientist," She said, wiggling her fingers, "and I think he got the boredest."

Just then, Nick Fury strode in. He was holding a pile of thick, paper packets in his hands, and proceeded to pass them out. Bellona looked down at the cover and sighed. _Rules_, she thought, _the teenager's common enemy._

**Ground Rules**

**50 Things the Avengers and Avengers Jr. are NOT ALLOWED TO DO at S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters**

"What's this?" Clint asked, frowning.

"The five of you seem to have forgotten the similar packet I made around twenty years ago, depicting the things you were not allowed to do. And you children have added some new rules to the list. You all need to read this thoroughly. If you have any questions, I don't care. Don't ask them," Fury instructed. With a sigh, Clint flicked open the packet, and the rest of the group followed suit.

Tony and Steve are not allowed to ask ANYONE what's for lunch

Tony and Steve are not allowed to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database and send out surveys asking what's for lunch

Tony and Steve are not allowed to do anything related to lunch

The words "poop sandwich" are not to be uttered at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters

Stella is not allowed to call Steve "Captain Racist"

Chase is not allowed to call Steve "Captain America Minus Texas Because Texas Sucks"

We will not be celebrating Steve's 123 birthday. (Yes, we know it's "the big one-two-three")

Fifty Shades of Grey is not a necessary book for Steve to read in order to become acclimated to the twenty-first century.

Tony is not allowed to recommend books to Steve.

Bellona is not allowed to light anyone on fire because they "didn't move out of the way fast enough"

Nick needs to learn to move out of the way fast enough.

Steve is not allowed to attempt modern slang. It makes people uncomfortable.

Clint and Tony are not allowed to steal communication devices used on S.H.I.E.L.D. missions and make sex noises into them.

Tony is not allowed to play the line, "I wear your granddad's clothes, I look incredible," from Thrift Shop every time Steve walks into a room.

The following words and/or phrases are not to be uttered over communication devices during any missions or simulations: "It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes." "Rogers, you make me want to kill old ladies." "If you don't move I will shoot you in the dick." "Necrophilia" "We should do this in Heelys." "Aye aye, Captain." or "Poop sandwiches."

Tony is not allowed to remove pieces from puzzles and then laugh when Bruce tries to finish them.

The Avengers do not need matching hats.

The Avengers Jr. may not start a boy band, with the twist being that two of them are girls.

Clint and Tony are not allowed to challenge Steve to a Mario Kart competition. Rainbow Road scares him.

Natasha and Clint are not allowed to have spitball contests to see who can hit Nick Fury in the eyepatch.

Bruce and Tony are not allowed to call Nick Fury at two in the morning to suggest an Avengers theme song.

The Avengers do not need a theme song.

Tony is not allowed to remove all electronic things from a room when Steve falls asleep and convince him he went back in time.

The Cinnamon Challenge is never permitted on S.H.I.E.L.D. property.

Chase is not allowed to call Nick Rogers "Private America", "Captain Canada", or "Dick Rogers".

The Avengers Jr. are not allowed to send a petition to the president requesting that America be changed to "South Canada".

Steve is not "Captain South Canada".

South Canada does not exist.

Nick Fury is not a pirate. He will not be addressed as so.

Shoes and shirt are required.

So are pants.

Clothes, people. You must wear clothes.

Nick and Stella are not allowed to draw facial hair on unconscious criminals.

Clint is not allowed to post pictures of golden retrieves around S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and label them "Thor".

Pizza Rolls are never again to be mentioned in conversation at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Looking up pictures of Adolf Hitler in shorts and laughing at them is not okay. You should never laugh at Hitler. Hitler is not a funny guy.

Posting pictures of The Green Giant around S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and labelling them "Bruce" is not tolerated.

Chase is not allowed to post pictures of The Green Giant around S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and label them "Bruce".

Seeing how fast potential employees can dodge arrows is not part of the job interview process at S.H.I.E.L.D., _Clint_.

The rest of the Avengers are not allowed to tease Clint because he doesn't have a Pez and the rest of them do. Success is not measured in creepy Pez models. ss is not measured in creepy Pez models.

Flappy Bird is never to be played at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Bellona is not allowed to threaten Stella with death if she beats Bellona's Flappy Bird high score.

Tony is not allowed to wear a Jesus costume and tell people it's a book signing. Anywhere. Ever.

Bruce is not allowed to sign Tony up at a church in Georgia because he "needs southern Jesus"

Tony is not allowed to convince Steve he's going to hell by telling him the phrase, "It's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve."

The Avengers not being present is not an excuse for the Avengers Jr. to accept candy from strangers.

Chase and Stella are not allowed to hide in the vents and drop feminine hygiene supplies on people from above.

Natasha is not allowed to tell new agents she dyed her hair red with blood.

"Magic Mike" is not a "family-friendly film about a magician". Tony is not allowed to tell Steve it is.

No one is getting a cape. Stop asking.

Any violation of these rules will result in spending the day cleaning the Hulk cage. The Hulk makes big dumps. The cage has not been cleaned in over twenty years.


	12. Chapter 12: Team Captain

**I am a terrible person because I've had this written for a while and didn't post it. I offer you my sincerest apologies, but I ****_have _****been busy. My friends and I started a blog on tumblr called "best-fanfic-quotes" where we post out-of-context quotes from fanfictions. There are even some from this story! Please check us out!**

**Also, my friend Incitatus the Horse and I joined up to become "The Huns". We have an account on this website, please give us a look! The only story we have up right now is called "Poop Sandwiches". It is based off chapter 7 of this very story. Basically, it's a compilation of silly and ridiculous oneshots about poop sandwiches. And, you know, poop sandwiches are great. What's not to love?**

**But anyway, sorry to bore you with all that. Now the story!**

**FadingEcho12193: Embarrassing for him is funny for us! Glad you found it funny, thanks for reviewing!**

**InsaneKids159: Well, Tony gets into the most trouble! Thanks for the review!**

**soccerstar0198: Like I said before, Tony gets into the most trouble, and most of that trouble involves picking on Steve. I'm glad I could make you laugh! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.**

* * *

**"Ground Rules" Recap: Fury lays down the law with the mischievous and disobedient Avengers and Avengers Jr. More information is given on Bruce's poop than Bruce would've liked. That's pretty much it. **

* * *

Bellona could honestly and inexorably say she was 100% not willing to take Stella or Chase in a fight. Neither had powers like hers, but she'd seen them in action. They were unstoppable. Chase could sweep her legs out from under her before she could form a drop of water, and she was certain Stella could snap her neck in less than that time. So, when she got to S.H.I.E.L.D. and heard they would be fighting each other, she was more than a little scared.

"I pick Rogers," She immediately said. Nick turned to her, a confused expression on his face.

"What?" He asked.

"I want to fight Rogers. If we're fighting each other, I pick Nick," She explained.

"Thank you for your input, Ms. Banner, but if we let you fight Rogers, two things would happen," Fury began. "One, you'd kill him."

"Okay, so we're not even going to entertain the possibility that I might win?" Nick cut in. Everyone turned and stared at him.

"No," They all said.

"And two, Stark and Barton would be left to fight each other, and that fight would either never end, or they'd kill each other. Neither of which are desirable outcomes," Fury finished.

"Wait, wait, wait, I don't understand. You just spent two weeks trying to turn us into a cohesive team," Nick pointed out, "now you want us to fight each other?"

"Precisely," Fury replied. "There are more components to a team than just working together. A team is cohesive, yes, but a good team is also divided."

"Woah, listen to you. You sound like Yoda or Jesus or something," Chase joked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bellona asked, ignoring Chase.

"It means that a good team has a leader," Fury replied. He turned and looked directly at Nick. "A captain." Nick rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, I'm more of a private, myself," He muttered.

"Going into this project, we assumed Rogers would be your leader. It only seemed fitting," Coulson continued. "But if there's one thing you guys have shown us, it's that history will _not_ be repeating itself. You're a lot different from your parents."

"That's one of the only things you've ever said that hasn't made me want to punch you in the crotch so hard your balls are paralyzed for the rest of your life," Stella said. "It's not so much the things you say, it's just your face...it makes me want to strangle puppies."

"Thank you," Coulson replied.

"Anyway," Fury cut in, "after we started training, it became clear that Rogers was not an appropriate choice to be your leader."

"I like that you've all stopped even _trying_ to spare my feelings," Nick muttered.

"I'm sorry, would you prefer it if we added a 'no offense' to the front? 'Cause we'd prefer it if you'd learn how to do _anything_," Chase shot back.

"Treat others how you want to be treated!" Bellona quipped, trying to diffuse the tension between the two. Nick didn't seem to have a problem with Chase, but that was not a mutual feeling. Chase couldn't stand Nick.

"Nick's fighting abilities aren't the issue," Agent Hill cut in, "although those are slightly lacking. The issue is that Rogers lacks the necessary confidence. A leader needs to be comfortable taking charge of his or her team. From what we've seen, you, Nick Rogers, aren't."

"So, we've devised a system. You're going to be broken into two groups. Bellona, you'll fight Chase, and Nick, you'll fight Stella. There will be no powers involved. A leader needs to be able to succeed even when his means of success are gone," Fury said.

"Or _her_ means of success," Stella and Bellona said in unison.

"Yes," Fury replied, nodding, "or _her_ means of success."

"Wait a second, you want me to fight _her_?" Nick asked incredulously, jerking his head towards Stella. She cracked her knuckles, smirking.

"Oh, Rogers," She said, "I don't think it'll be much of a fight."

* * *

Steve had seen a lot of weird and surprising stuff at S.H.I.E.L.D. But he really, honestly, truly hadn't expected to walk in that day and see Stella Stark beating the shit out of his son. At least, not yet.

Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Natasha were gathered by the big window in front of the simulation chamber, which was currently doubling as an arena for their kids to practice their hand-to-hand combat. Steve had let Nick drive himself to S.H.I.E.L.D. that day (which was probably a good thing, considering Steve had gotten his license in 1936), since he'd had to teach a class. And jeez, he was gone for twenty minutes, and Iron Man's kid was making his bleed.

And Tony was loving it.

"Steve!" He called, in between bouts of laughter, "You've gotta see this! Oh, god, look at that! Ooh, ouch, that's gotta hurt." Steve sighed, crossing his arms.

"That's it, Stella," Natasha muttered, "no, no, go for the neck, quicker kill." Steve turned to her, mouth agape in horror.

"Did you just tell her to kill my kid?" He demanded. Natasha looked away sheepishly.

"All hypothetical, of course," She muttered.

"Look at that! Bam! Pow! Oh, do you see all that blood?" Tony gasped, practically choking on his own laughter. Steve rolled his eyes and watched as Stella managed to hook her legs around Nick's neck, hoist herself up onto his shoulders, and flip him to the ground. "Ooh! Another one bites the dust!"

"C'mon, Nick," Steve muttered, "use the super-strength." And it was almost as if Nick could hear his father, because the next time Stella went to throw a punch, Nick caught her arm, threw her to the ground, and she didn't get up. There was silence for a moment as everyone waited for Stella to move. Nick stared at her, then his own hands, in horror.

"Shit, Rogers," Tony finally spoke, "what the hell? Stella!" He started running for the door, but at that moment, Nick approached Stella. They couldn't hear him through the glass, but it was a pretty safe guess that he was apologizing. Just as he reached out a hand to help her up (if she was even conscious), she grabbed his arm and flipped him to the mat. "Oh!" Tony cheered, laughing again, "That is great! Classic! Holy _shit_, she's good!"

Nick stumbled to his feet, looking dazed and confused, but Stella was ready. She whirled around, performing a quick, roundhouse kick, then caught him by the torso with her other leg. Skillfully, she twisted sharply so he was lying on the ground and she was straddled atop him, prepared to deliver the fatal blow to his throat.

"Well," Clint said, "that was a rollercoaster from start to finish. First we thought Rogers was totally gonna get his ass handed to him, and then we thought he killed Stella, and then BAM! Rogers is getting his ass handed to him again."

"Is she actually going to kill him?" Steve questioned, pointing at the position his son and Stella Stark were currently in, "She looks pretty intent on actually killed him."

"I got this," Tony assured him. He pounded on the glass. "Stella!" He shouted. She looked up, her fist still in ready-position. "Don't kill him!"

"What?" She called. They could barely hear her through the glass, but it was fairly easy to lip-read.

"DON'T KILL HIM!" Tony yelled.

"Oh," Stella said (or, at least, that's what it looked like she said). Uncurling her fist, she climbed off Nick's torso. Steve shook his head, staring at the scene in both amazement and horror.

"Teenagers," He mused. "When did they get so _scary_?"

It took Chase only a little longer to take down Bellona than it had for Stella to beat Nick. Which left them all wondering the all-important question: would Stella and Chase have to fight each other? They all knew that couldn't end well. The two were lethal. They'd kill each other. And Tony, who had previously been so amused by this whole process, wasn't laughing anymore.

"Fury," He said, cornering Director Fury as soon as he was out of the simulation chamber, "you can't make them fight. You know why."

"Why?" Clint asked, "Worried Chase'll make mincemeat out've Stella?"

"What?" Tony scoffed, "Please. Chase couldn't beat Stella if he tried. Luckily, he's been smart enough not to for the past eleven years."

"More like he's decided not to just to spare her pride."

"I'm sorry, who's the genius here? Me. So, you know, all statistics point to me being right and you being wrong."

"Well, that's just a load of poop sandwich."

There was a loud gasp. Fury's eye widened. All of S.H.I.E.L.D. stopped working. News programs all over the country stopped what they were reporting about to cover this breaking story. All over the world, the people felt that somehow, this moment was incredibly important. There had been a shift in the cosmos. Clint Barton had said "poop sandwich". The world itself stopped spinning.

"Did...did you just….?" Steve stammered. Clint's eyes widened, and his hand flew to his mouth. He nodded gravely. Tony broke out in a huge grin.

"Yes!" He cried, "Let it be known by all the world: I have defeated Loki, the Mandarin, and various other villains, built the first Iron Man suit in a cave in Afghanistan, and practically carried a hungover Captain America up a flight of stairs, but my greatest victory is this moment."

"I'll never be the same again," Clint muttered. Tony held out his fist to Steve.

"Fist me," He said. Steve's face turned bright red.

"What?" He cried. Tony looked over, notice Steve's wide, horrified eyes, and burst out laughing.

"No, no, I didn't mean-oh my god. You thought I meant-_Jesus_, no. I just meant, like...like this." He gave himself a fist-bump. "It's like a high-five, only manlier. God, Steve, you have a dirty mind. You're the sluttiest virgin I've ever met."

"Thanks," Steve said, "it was an honor just to be nominated." Just then, Stella, Bellona, Nick and Chase strode out of the simulation chamber. Fury put a hand on Stella's and Chase's shoulders.

"The next phase of the process will be mental," He said, "so you won't be fighting each other. You'll be given a situation, and you'll have twenty-four hours to solve it. Whoever does so first and correctly will be worthy of being the team leader. There is nothing you can do to prepare yourselves for this. We'll see you at headquarters tomorrow. Good luck."

* * *

Stella was quiet in the car. Tony was, too. She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. He kept his eyes on the road.

"You know," He said, finally breaking the silence, "you've got this in the bag."

"I'm not worried about that," She replied.

"That's a bit cocky."

"Says the guy with narcissistic personality disorder."

"Textbook narcissism. They're very different things. Anyway, if you're not worried about tomorrow, why're you so quiet?" She shrugged.

"Nothing to talk about."

"There's lots to talk about."

"Like what?"

"Tomorrow. And why you're so quiet."

She sighed. "I don't think I wanna be the leader," She finally said. He waited for her to continue. "I don't think I could handle having the whole team look to me. I mean, like, I can come up with plans and stuff, but I couldn't be responsible for an entire team. I wouldn't be able to handle the pressure. The closest thing I've ever had to a team is me and Chase, and we've never had a leader. We came up with the plans together, and we were both responsible for ourselves."

"That's not true," He cut in, "you've always had each other's backs."

"Yeah," She admitted, "but it's different. Each of us looking out for the other is different from me looking out for three other people as well as myself." Tony tried to think of a reply, but he didn't have one. He couldn't relate. He'd never been the team leader. His job had been more to lighten people's moods with snarky jokes at the expense of others. So, he took out his phone and dialed a familiar number. "What are you doing?" Stella asked.

"Eyes on the road," Tony said, "I'm making a phone call."

"Who're you calling?"

"Shhh, I'm on the phone."

"No, you're not. It's still ringing."

"Well, I will be on the phone, soon!"

"Hello?" Steve's voice came crackling through the phone, and Tony shot a triumphant look at Stella.

"Did you forget how to pick up the phone again?" Tony asked.

"No," Steve muttered, "I just...um...I kind of thought it was a bomb alarm." Tony burst out laughing. "Yeah, ha ha, it's hilarious. Is there a reason you called me, or did you just want to laugh at someone else's expense?"

"Sorry, sorry," Tony gasped, regaining composure. "Um, I was just wondering, uh, what it was like to be the leader."

"What?"

"Yeah, like, with the Avengers, and stuff. You were the leader. What was that like? Was it hard?"

"Why're you asking?"

"Because I've recently discovered that I have a great interest in your boring-as-fuck life. Can you just answer the question? I just put you on speaker, so watch your language. Stella's in the car."

"Tony, are you serious? You literally _just_ said the f-word, and you're in the car with her."

"Whatever. Answer the question, Capsicle."

"Okay. Well, um, I guess it was hard. A lot of pressure, sometimes. And sometimes I thought I really wasn't the best man for the job. I mean, I barely understood the twenty-first century-"

"You didn't understand the twenty-first century. You still don't," Tony cut in.

"Do you want me to answer or not?"

"Sorry, sorry. Continue."

"Thank you. Anyway, I just didn't always know what was happening, but I still had to tell you guys what to do and keep you safe. So that was hard. But it's not like you guys were completely incompetent, either. You could take care of yourselves. So, you know, that made it easier. You didn't always need me. That took some of the pressure away."

"Cool. Bye!" With that, Tony hung up and looked over at Stella. "See?" He said, "It's not so hard."

"Says Captain America. He was born to be a leader. It's in the name. Captain America. I'm just 'Steel'. Not 'Captain Steel' or 'Commander Steel'-"

"Well, you can be 'Commander Steel' if you want."

"That's not the point! I'm just not cut out for this."

Tony pulled the car into the garage and turned to look at her. "Hey," He said, "don't you ever say that again. Just because you're not 'cut out for something' doesn't mean you can't do it. I wasn't exactly cut out for being on a team, and the Avengers ended up being one of the greatest things that ever happened to me. Never say you can't do something before you try. If everyone thought like that, we would go nowhere. It's our ability to think that we can do things that allows us to progress in life. People who think things are impossible never even give themselves the chance to make them possible. And Stella, you're amazing. You can do this. You can do anything."

"Thanks, Dad. That was very deep. But I just don't think being a leader is my thing."

"Did you listen to anything I just said? You can make it your thing. Give it a try. You're at S.H.I.E.L.D. to learn, Stella. So far, they haven't been able to teach you anything, because you already know it all. Maybe they can teach you to be a leader. Besides, I am not trusting Chase Barton to lead my kid into battle."

"Okay, fine. But what if I lose?"

"Lose? At a mental contest? To Chase Barton? Not in a million years."

"You underestimate him."

"I think you overestimate him."

"Whatever. I guess we'll just see tomorrow."

* * *

Tomorrow came too fast for Stella's liking. She could hardly sleep that night, Steve's words ringing in her ears. _I guess it was hard. A lot of pressure sometimes. _And, more than anything else, _I thought I really wasn't the best man for the job._

Steve was Captain America. And if he thought he wasn't good enough to be a leader, how could she even come close? After all, she was just Steel. Not Captain or Commander of General or anything. Just Steel. How could she, just a normal seventeen-year-old girl, do what Captain America thought he couldn't? She told herself not to sweat it. Chances were, Chase would beat her, and she wouldn't have to worry about it. But she wasn't going to lose on purpose. She was going to give it her all, and see how it went.

She arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D. early that day. Her dad drove, telling her she needed to conserve her energy, although she wasn't sure how driving was at all tiring. Chase was already there when she arrived, along with his parents. Fury, Coulson, and Hill were there, as well. No one else was. Stella took her seat beside Chase, and he flashed her an anxious grin.

"Nervous?" He asked.

"A little," She replied.

"You got this," He said.

"Woah, don't be too self-confident," She teased sarcastically. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm just saying, you're the brains of our operation. I'm the ass-kicker. This is more your thing."

"Excuse me, I kick my fair share of ass, thank you very much!"

"Okay, but we both know I kick more. You just come up with the plans."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Barton."

He grinned and punched her playfully in the arm. She rolled her eyes and smiled back. Suddenly, an idea hit her. "Hey," She said, "what if we were both the leader?" He furrowed his brow.

"What?"

"What if we worked on whatever riddle we have to solve together? We could both figure it out at the same time, and then it'd be a tie. We'd both lead the team together."

He considered this for a moment, before turning back to her. "It's a good idea," He told her, "but I don't think they'd let it be a tie. They'd probably make us do more stuff until there was a winner. Besides, this isn't a bad system. Whoever comes out on top deserves to be the leader, don't you think?" She shrugged.

"I guess." But she didn't have any more time to think about it, because at that moment, Fury approached them. The test was about to begin.

"Thank you for arriving on time, ," He began. She was about to open her mouth to tell him she'd been late one time, it had been on purpose, and it had turned out all she'd had to do was stop a stupid gas station robbery, but he continued before she could speak. "As promised, this phase is mental. So, here is your situation.

"Your villain is named Dr. Oleander. He has plans to poison the water supply of the city. At the same time, a bomb has been planted in a nearby mall. We have reason to believe these are related crimes and committed by the same person. You don't have time to both disable the bomb and stop Oleander. So, what do you do, and how do you do it?" Both Stella and Chase raised their hands to ask questions. "You may not ask any questions. Any other information has been emailed to you. Begin."

Stella and Chase looked at each other, as if still debating tackling this together. Then Chase shook her hand, said, "Good luck," and took off.

Stella immediately went down to the lab. It was a big one, and well-equipped, too. The best part was it wasn't really hers, so she had no problem with blowing stuff up in it. She did that regularly. Her father and Bruce were formidable opponents when it came to having explosion contests, but she was proud to say she held her own. Bruce was already down there when she arrived, doing something or other that, ordinarily, she would've asked about. But today, she was on a mission. She had to crack this. She went right to one of the computers, opened her email, and started downloading the files she'd been sent.

"Contest already started?" Bruce asked, not looking up from his work.

"Yup," She replied, "we've gotta decide whether to stop this guy Oleander from poisoning the water supply or disable a bomb that'll kill a lot of people."

"Easy," Bruce said, "disable the bomb. If he does end up poisoning the water supply, they can just shut it off and supply people with bottled water. It'll be bad, but not as bad as a mass explosion."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. But they're totally unrelated crimes, y'know? There's definitely a more to it than just deciding which would be worse," Stella answered. She opened the files she'd been sent and found an audio recording and a map of the water tower.

"Y'know, Oleander is-"

"A poisonous flower, I know," Stella cut him off, "which is why it's probably a safe guess that that's what he's using to poison the supply. But I still want to know why, and what the bomb has to do with any of this." Stella opened to audio file and turned up the volume. At first, she was confused. All she heard was two men arguing and a lot of static.

_Sir, the security system is weak. Anyone could easily slip through._

_I'll have you know that our security systems is one of the best in the state! And how is that any of your business, anyway? Get back to work._

_Water is vital to human life! It needs to be better protected._

_What do you suggest, since you clearly know everything?_

_Heightened security measures. Metal detectors and armed officers at every entrance. Guards near each tank. We can't risk anything happening to the city's water, sir._

_I appreciate your concern, but that would cost far too much. Besides, our security is top-notch as it is. Don't you have things to do? Get back to work._

The rest was lost in static. Stella stared at the screen, contemplating what she'd just heard. Her thoughts were disturbed, however, by a loud explosion. Stella looked over to see a rather charred Bruce Banner staring at the blackened spot where his experiment had been sitting ten minutes ago.

"Was that supposed to happen?" She asked.

"No," He muttered, wiping the soot off his glasses, "but on the bright side, that was a pretty cool explosion."

"I've seen better."

"Don't you have something to do?"

"Right, sorry." She turned back to the screen and contemplated what she'd just heard. It sounded like the first speaker was an employee at the water plant, and the second was his boss. The first was suggesting improvements be made to the security system at the plant, and the second shot him down, saying the system was fine. "JARVIS," She said, "run a vocal scan of that audio file. I need a name for the guy that spoke first."

"Vocal scan initiated, ma'am," JARVIS replied, his voice booming out from the speakers in the lab. Next, Stella opened the map. She noted all the marked entrances, then went through and marked all the other possible ways to get in. If she wanted to stop Oleander, she would need to block every possible entryway. "Ma'am," JARVIS said, "results show a 99% match for Dr. Dover Oleander."

"Dover Oleander," She muttered, "that's clever. It literally means 'Water Poison'. This is definitely fake."

"Of course it is," Bruce cut in, "it's honestly way too easy. Can't believe it's taken you so long."

"Don't you have something to do?" She shot back. He smirked and looked back at whatever he was doing.

Stella contemplated the information she had. Oleander had worked at the water plant, and had thought that the security system was too weak to be safe. That made sense. He probably wanted to poison the water just to prove he could. But there was still no correlation to the bomb…

_Of course, _she thought._ He knows the security system at the plant is weak enough for him to slip through, but the workers at the plant would probably alert the police and call in back-up. So the bomb….oh._ She smiled to herself. It made so much sense. She'd cracked it.

"Director Fury!" She yelled, racing through the hall, "Director Fury! I got it, I figured it out, Director-oh." She skidded to a halt in Fury's office. Chase was already there.

"Ms. Stark," He greeted her, "Barton here claims to have solved it as well. Since he was here first, if he's right, he wins. So, Chase, what was your decision?"

"I chose to disable the bomb," He replied, "I figured, in the long run, it would save a lot more lives. People could survive on bottled water for a few days, until they got the water plant up and running again. As for Oleander, I would have the building surrounded, so he wouldn't be able to get out. Then the police could take him away."

"I see," Fury said, "Ms. Stark?"

"I chose to meet Oleander at the plant before he could poison the water," She answered, "I would have security personnel stationed at each water tank, but judging by the map, Tank C is the one that feeds out into the city. That's where I'd meet Oleander and, hopefully, take him down. If not, I designed a combatant for the poison, which I'm assuming is Oleander-based. That way, my plan is fail-safe. Even if Oleander gets his poison in the water supply, I have an antidote that'll fix everything."

"Interesting," Fury mused, "and the bomb?"

"A fake," She said confidently, "a decoy. I don't have any solid proof of this, but bombs aren't sold to just anyone, and Oleander doesn't seem to have the skills to build one. Poison is more easily acquired, and as an ex-employee at the plant, he knows his way around. That part of the plan he'd be fully capable of. But the bomb just doesn't add up. So, I would take my chances that the bomb was a fake meant to draw police or any other possible threats away from Oleander and the water plant." Fury was silent for a moment. Chase stared at her, mouth agape. She smirked. While Fury thought, Chase mouthed, _How'd you figure all that out?_

_You said it yourself, _She replied,_ I'm the smart one._

_Whatever. I'm the ass-kicker._

_When I need back-up._

_Yeah. You wish, Stark._

"I can read lips, too, you know," Fury cut in on their silent conversation. Smirking, Chase mouthed, _Sorry_. Fury rolled his eyes...well, eye.

"So?" Stella pressed, "Who got it right?" Fury waited for another dramatic moment.

"Stella," He finally said. "The bomb was a decoy. Dr. Oleander himself was the only real threat." Stella felt a rush of triumph, followed by a rush of fear. Sure, she'd won. She always liked winning. But was she really deserving of the prize?

Then she remembered her dad's words_. Never say you can't do something before you try._ Maybe she could do this. After all, she'd never tried. It was worth a shot. And if she wasn't a natural leader, well, she was here to learn. Fury, Hill, and maybe even Coulson could help her. (Not that she'd ever ask Coulson for help. The guy still made her want to step on kittens.) She just had to believe that she could do this. It sounded corny, but she knew if she didn't believe in herself, she could never even attempt to be a good leader. Confidence was key. She could do this.

"Congratulations, Stella," Fury said. One hand on her shoulder, he marched her out of his office to where the rest of the Avengers and Avengers Jr. were waiting to hear the results. "Avengers Jr.," Fury announced, "Meet your new leader: Stella Stark."


	13. Chapter 13: Acro-Jazz

**I've finally finished chapter 13! I know it took a while, but it's a pretty long one. Hopefully that makes up for it. Please review!**

**InsaneKids159: I'm glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Guest: I guess it is kinda sad that Bellona won't be with Nick, but Stella and Nick are cute too, right? I'm glad you like my story, thanks for the review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.**

* * *

**"Team Captain" Recap: Fury, Coulson, and Hill hold a contest to decide the team leader of the Avengers Jr. Stella and Chase fight Bellona and Nick, and easily win. Instead of the two then having to fight each other, the winner is decided in a mental contest. Clint says "poop sandwich". Stella doubts her abilities to lead the team, and Tony and Steve give her a pep-talk. Stella wins the contest, and becomes the captain of the Avengers Jr. **

* * *

"Aliens," Fury told them. And Nick actually rolled his eyes. _Aliens_, he thought, _of course._

"Why?" Stella asked, "I mean, you always give us an enemy and no explanation. How did the aliens even get here?"

"It's a simulation, Stark," Coulson cut in, "just get in there and kill the things." Stella glared at him.

"The explanation," Fury hissed, "is there are aliens, and aliens are bad for people. Kill them."

"Good explanation," Chase said.

"For fuck's sake, they're not even real aliens! It's a simulation! Just _go_!" Fury ordered, looking like he would tear his hair out if he had any. Stella smirked, Chase rolled his eyes, and Nick, feeling bold, saluted him. Bellona just listened patiently and did what she was asked. She had to stay calm, or her powers would act up.

Together, the four of them traipsed into the simulation chamber and waited for the alien apocalypse to take shape. Buildings materialized around them, along with huge masses of weird, bluish aliens. They had tentacles, and were armored everywhere but in between each of their twelve legs. That was their weak spot, and the place where Nick would have to hit if he wanted to do any good.

"Alright," Stella, their newly-minted leader, said, "here's the plan: Bellona, you take the roofs. Nick, I'll fly you up so you can help her. Chase, you take care of the ones on the ground. I'll find the portal and close it. Once it's closed, we can kill the remaining aliens without anymore appearing. Everyone got it?" Everyone has it. "Okay," Stella said, "let's do this."

Bellona immediately took to the air. Chase drew his bow and started taking out alien after alien. And Nick just stared at Stella, wondering how she was planning to fly him up in a non-awkward manner. She sighed.

"Get on my back," She orders.

"What?"

"Get on my back. Now, Rogers."

So, sighing, groaning, and fully hating his life, Nick climbed aboard Stella's back and let her fly him to the roof to face the octopus-mutants. Stella's suit lifted her and Nick off the ground, the repulsors blazing. It was not a slow ascent. The two shot into the air, and Nick, who had never flown on the back of a seventeen-year-old girl in an Iron Man suit before, nearly let go in surprise.

Stella dropped Nick on the roof of what appeared to be an office building, and he was met with an army of aliens.

"What do I do now?" He asked.

"The weak spot is between the tentacles," Stella said, "hit 'em there. Kill them. Survive. Those are your instructions." With that, she jetted off to close the portal, and Nick was left with the aliens.

He did what Stella asked. He kicked and punched and slammed the things with his shield, aiming for the weak, soft spot in between their many armored legs. He was holding them off fairly well, but they just kept coming. He wasn't making any progress in diminishing the amount of aliens. For every one he killed, it seemed like two more were ready to kill him.

"How's the situation on the ground?" Nick heard Bellona's voice crackle through his earpiece.

"Controlled," Chase replied, "I'm taking them out about as fast as they can climb out of the portal. How's it going up there?"

"Same," Nick said, "I'm doing okay, but they just keep coming."

"Me too," Bellona began, "Stella?"

"Gimme two minutes. I'm gonna blow something up so I can collapse this thing," Stella explained.

"What are you gonna blow up?" Chase asked.

"I don't know. Maybe Nick," Stella suggested. There was laughter, and Nick rolled his eyes. They always made jokes like that._ "We're like the football team and Nick's the waterboy." "Let's go on a _real_ mission. Oh, Nick, maybe you can drive us." "LOL, Nick sucks."_ He didn't mind. In fact, it was encouraging him to get better. Constructive criticism was good. Healthy, even. Right?

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion. Stella's voice came through the comm, informing them all she'd managed to collapse the portal, and "no Nicks were harmed in the making of this film".

"We've just gotta kill the rest now," Stella said. "Should be easy, since there's no more coming through. I'm gonna go help Rogers." About ten seconds later, Stella landed atop Nick's building. Aliens started dropping as Stella blasted them with her repulsors, but he soon realized she was doing more harm than good. The aliens started to run away from her and towards Nick. They moved at him like a wave, pushing him back towards the edge of the building. He was doing his best to hold them off, but all he had was a shield, and this situation really called for a gun. Being Captain America was really impractical.

"Uh, Stella?" He said nervously.

"What?" Came her reply.

"I'm about to-_Aah_!" A tentacle came flying at him and he went wheeling over the edge of the building. In an instant, Stella's armored hand had caught him, and he was dangling over the street so many stories below. The aliens still advanced, and Stella was in no position to fight them. Neither was Nick. "Let me go," He told her.

"What?" She cried, "Rogers, are you stupid?"

"The aliens-"

"I can handle the aliens." As if on cue, a tentacle whipped towards her. Without turning around, she twisted her head so the tentacle was wrapped tightly around it. Then she jerked her neck forward, and the alien was dangling over the edge of the building, too, suspended by his tentacle attached to Stella. She lifted her free hand and blasted the alien's leg in two pieces, and he fell, landing with a sickening SPAT! on the ground. They kept coming, and Stella got them all. She blasted them, and shot them, and sent them flying off the building, all while holding Nick.

Then one got her. She didn't see it coming. He didn't blame her. He was heavy, and she was kind of preoccupied. While she was in the midst of shooting three down, a tentacle wrapped around her neck and started pulling. It was clear she'd have to let Nick go or be strangled.

"Stella, let me go," He ordered.

"Who's…," She gasped, "who's the leader here, Rogers? Me...or you?"

"You can't pull me up."

"I can't...let..you fall."

"It's just a simulation!"

"It'll still...hurt." Her voice was raspy and high as she gasped and choked for air.

"I'll be fine. Stella, you have to let me go, _now_!"

"If this...were...real...I'd save...you."

"I know. Just let me go, Stella. It'll be okay." So, with one last choking gasp and a squeaky, breathless apology, she released him, and he went flying.

It was just a simulation. He knew that. The pain would fade as soon as the simulation was turned off. That was how it worked. But she was right. It did hurt. It hurt a lot. It hurt worse than that time he played frisbee with his dad when he was eight, tried to catch one, and ended up dislocating his shoulder because his dad got really carried away with frisby. And had super-strength. And was used to throwing a twenty-pound metal shield. Conclusion: frisby was not a good idea.

But this was worse. He hit the ground-which he knew was the padded floor of the simulation chamber-hard. Padded or not, it was bad. Pain exploded everywhere. He was nothing but one big wound. He vaguely heard his dad yelling his name, and bright lights flickering, and a door handle clicking, but never opening, and a lot of shouting. There was some sort of struggle going on, he could tell. He could hear snippets of the conversation through the door.

"Steve, you can't open the door! It'll mess up the simulation, shit'll blow up, I promise, it'll be bad. Damn, you're strong. Bruce, help me out!"

"Let me go! _Nick_!" That was his dad, he knew. And the other guy...that was Tony, right? No one else cursed like that.

"Fury, Fury! Turn it off!"

"The threat hasn't been eliminated-"

"I don't care! Turn it off, goddammit, before Steve rips my arms out of their sockets!"

"_Nick_!"

Then there were lights, and pain. Nick knew the bright lights meant the simulation was turning off, but the pain in his head wasn't fading. Maybe because simulation or no simulation, there was a ground here, and he'd hit it, hard. And the lights were too much. His brain throbbed and pounded against his skull, and Nick couldn't handle all the pain. The last thing he felt were hands on his shoulders, someone cradling him against their chest, and the last thing he heard was, "Nick? Can you hear me? It's okay. You're okay. Nick?"

And then everything went black.

* * *

Steve was freaking out.

He couldn't lose Nick. He couldn't. Not when Nick was all he really had, and things were so broken between them. He had so much left to fix. Nick couldn't go before he had a chance to make sure everything was okay.

The thing was, Nick still felt like a disappointment. Steve could tell. And no mattered how hard he tried, he just couldn't make Nick see that he didn't care what Nick wanted to do with his life. He could be whatever he wanted, and Steve would support that. He just had to find a way to show Nick that he wasn't a disappointment. It was probably hard having a mother who abandoned you and a father who thinks you're a disappointment. Steve had to make sure that wasn't what Nick had. All he wanted for Nick was for him to be happy and successful in everything he wanted to do, and Steve didn't care what those things were. He loved Nick, no matter what. He just didn't know how to make him see.

And right now he was contemplating never even getting the chance to make him see. Well, maybe that was a bit of an overstatement. Nick wasn't dying. He had a minor concussion. But he wasn't supposed to. He was a super-soldier. He had the super-healing stuff. So, this minor concussion should really be a "minor nothing". He was told that a fall like that should've left Nick with a "not-so-minor concussion" or an "actually-quite-major concussion", so he was lucky, in actuality. But that didn't calm Steve down at all.

Apparently, minor concussions weren't reason enough to stay in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical wing, which was pretty much reserved for when you got turned into a frog by an angry Norse god or had a limb chopped off by some strange alien. So, Nick was currently lying atop the table in the conference room outside the simulation chamber, completely unconscious. Bellona, Stella, and Chase were practicing hand-to-hand combat in the chamber while the Avengers sat around the table and stared at Nick's unmoving body.

"Well," Tony said, "this is boring. Is he gonna do something?"

"Tony, he's unconscious," Bruce replied.

"Yeah, but would it kill him to twitch or groan or sleep talk and expose some dark sex fantasy?" Tony suggested. Steve turned red at the thought.

"Nick doesn't have dark sex fantasies," He said firmly.

"That's what you think," Tony quipped. "He's eighteen, Capsicle. Of course he has dark sex fantasies." Tony shuddered, before adding, "Probably about my daughter."

"You know what's fucking bullshit?" Clint suddenly cut in, slamming his book shut and holding it up. It was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. "That no one figured out Lupin was a werewolf until the end of the fucking book. 'Remus' means 'wolf' and so does 'Lupin'. His name is fucking 'Werewolf McWerewolf'. How did no one figure this shit out?!"

"That's nice, honey," Natasha said, slowly taking the book from Clint's hands and patting him slowly on the shoulder. "I recently introduced him to books," She said to the rest of the team, "and sometimes he gets really emotional."

"You know what else sucks?!" Clint demanded. No one knew. No one asked to know. Clint continued anyway. "Peeta Mellark. Peeta Mellark fucking sucks. First of all, Katniss literally has to carry him for, like, the entire second book. Second of all, they make such a big deal about him being the 'Boy with the Bread', and you know what his name is? Fucking 'Bread'. His name is motherfucking Bread Mellark. I mean, could anyone be less clever?"

"Aren't these teen romance novels?" Bruce asked. "I think it's a little unhealthy that you're getting so worked up about it."

"I'll tell you what's fucking _unhealthy_," Clint replied, "John Green. John Green is bad for my mental health. Let me give you a summary of all John Green books: death. That's it. Because everyone fucking dies. He makes you fall in love with his beautiful, hilarious, sexy characters and then he kills them! That's _unhealthy_."

"It's s'posed t'be a tragedy," A new, groggy, somewhat confused voice spoke, "showing love through pain...or whatever." Nick pushed himself up on the table, blinking at the brightness, and clutches at his head. "Ow," He muttered, "Why'm I on a table?"

"How was your wild sex fantasy about my daughter?" Tony asked.

"Pretty nice," Nick mumbled, still pretty out of it. Tony's mouth falls open.

"Holy shit," He cried, "holy fucking shit! You _actually_ had a wild sex fantasy about my daughter? That's it, I'm getting a restraining order! Holy shit, Rogers, teach your son some respect!"

"We'll, uh, we'll talk about that later," Steve muttered, knowing they wouldn't. He wanted nothing to do with Nick's sex life. "How's your head?"

"Been better," Nick replied, "kinda feel like I fell off a building."

"You did fall off a building," Bruce deadpanned. "Well, you know, a simulated building."

"HOLY SHIT!" Clint suddenly cried, "Sirius is Harry's godfather! I did not see that coming!" Just then, Bellona, Chase, and Stella traipsed out of the simulation chamber, followed by Coulson, Fury, and Hill. They were panting a bit and slightly sweaty, but grinning from ear-to-ear. And they were carrying...swords?

"Ancient Greek swordplay," Stella said, "is all kinds of awesome."

"Yeah," Bellona agreed, "don't know when I'll ever use it, but it's nice to know I could chop up an Ancient Greek if I wanted to."

"Always nice to know you could chop people up if you wanted to," Chase commented.

"I'M GONNA CHOP UP THIS BOOK!" Clint shouted, falling off his chair and rolling around on the floor. "My emotions!" Chase raised an eyebrow at his father, then looked to his mother.

"Perks of Being a Wallflower?" He asked.

"Harry Potter," She replied.

"Hey," Stella said, "Nick's awake!" Bellona and Stella immediately went over to help him off the table, while Chase lingered by the door to the simulation chamber for a moment, before following reluctantly. Nick gripped Stella's arm to steady himself, and Tony ran over and pulled them apart.

"No!" He ordered, "No touching my daughter! Understand, Private Sex Fantasies? No touchy-touchy!"

"Private Sex Fantasies?" Coulson questioned.

"Steve's little satan-spawn was having sex fantasies about Stella!" Tony accused. Nick blushed bright red.

"I was not," He muttered. Stella inched away from him, and Tony put a protective arm around her.

"That's it, Stella. Stay away from the creepy pervert," He instructed.

"SCABBER'S IS A PERSON?!" Clint exclaimed, still lying on the ground. Fury sighed.

"I think it's time for everyone to go home," He said, "_now_."

Nick had honestly not been having a wild sex fantasy about Stella Stark. He'd just been so out of it when Tony asked that he just replied without thinking about it. And now she thought he was a creepy perv, and he wasn't even allowed to touch her without getting beat up by Iron Man. And he had a minor concussion. So today sucked. Then his phone beeped, which actually made today suck even more, because he had a minor concussion, and noises hurt. And it was a text from Stella, which he supposed could go one of two ways. It could be her texting to tell him he should never touch her again and she's getting a restraining order. Or it could be her saying she doesn't care and honestly how could he not have sex fantasies about her? (Not that he did.) And the latter would make super-sucky today infinitely less super-sucky, so he decided to look.

**To: Me**

**From: Stella**

**Sorry about my dad. He can be kind of...like my dad.**

Nick looked up from his phone in shock. She was apologizing for Tony. That could only mean one thing: she thought her dad had been making it up to embarrass Nick. She knew he wasn't having sex fantasies about her! She didn't think he was a creepy pervert!_ Today is awesome_, Nick thought to himself.

**To: Stella**

**From: Me**

**Re: Sorry...**

**No big deal. That's parents, right?**

He contemplated whether or not that sounded to stupid, before shrugging and hitting "send" anyway. She texted back almost immediately.

**To: Me**

**From: Stella**

**Re: No big...**

**You have no idea. Hey, remember that dance thing I told you about our first day?**

Nick thought back to that moment, and found he could remember Stella's exact words. (Not that there was anything about her he could ever forget.) _"Well, I've been choreographing this acro-jazz piece, but I need a partner. A male partner. You should come over sometime, I could teach it to you."_

**To: Stella**

**From: Me**

**Re: You have...**

**The acro-jazz thing? I remember.**

**To: Me**

**From: Stella**

**Re: The acro-jazz...**

**Yeah, so, if you're still interested, tomorrow's Saturday, so we don't have to go to SHIELD. If you want to come over, I could teach it to you.**

He wondered for a moment why she texted with such proper grammar, then realized he was doing the same. Something about her made him want to do his best in everything, including, apparently, texting. He assumed it probably had something to do with proving to her he was "worthy", or whatever.

**To: Stella**

**From: Me**

**Re: Yeah, so...**

**That sounds awesome! As long as it's okay with your dad. I'm still "Private Sex Fantasies" to him.**

Holy shit, he had just used quotation marks in a text. What the hell? What the fucking hell? What was this hold she had on him?

**To: Me**

**From: Stella**

**Re: That sounds...**

**He won't care. I'll lock him in his lab. See you tomorrow?**

How could he reply in a way that would seem cool? He tried to think of a few. "Sure, I don't mind stopping by." No, that was too passive. "I'm ready, but are you ready for me?" No. Absolutely no. Where did that idea even come from? "Hey, I'm as free as America. Ready when you are." He actually shuddered. Ew. _Ew_.

**To: Stella**

**From: Me**

**Re: He won't...**

**Sounds good. See you then!**

Well, that was lame. But at least he didn't tell her he was as free as America.

* * *

For a moment, Stella contemplated actually telling her dad Nick was coming over. Then she decided Nick probably valued his life. So she just casually asked her dad if he was going to be busy that day at breakfast.

"Oh, yeah," He replied excitedly, "I'm working on this upgrade for the suit that'll actually turn it into a bomb. All you have to do is get out of it and tell JARVIS to turn on the Explosion App. It compacts into a perfect sphere, and if you light it on fire-BOOM! Explosion."

"Sounds cool," Stella said, trying to sound genuine. Her dad was really out of things to add to his suits. Last week, he had added a feature that allowed the suit to turn into a giant bowling ball while a human was inside, so you could roll through your enemies. "So, would you say you're gonna be down there all day?" He looked up at her, slightly guilty.

"I think so. Why? Do you want to do something? We can do something. I can work on it later. Let's do something. Family things. We can play scrabble all day and gossip about the nonexistent in-laws. That's what families do. Right? I think-"

"Dad," She cut him off, "it's fine. I have plans." Telling him she had plans was not part of her plan, but he always rambled and got all distressed when he thought he was being a bad father. If she ever so much as implied he was spending too much time in the lab, he practically begged for forgiveness and made the two of them spend the weekend watching family movies that usually ended up being R-rated.

"Okay. Cool. That's cool. But if you want to do something, we can. 'Cause those in-laws, man, if they existed, I bet they'd suck," He replied. She rolled her eyes.

"Alright, Dad. Why don't you go gossip about the nonexistent in-laws to the friends you had to invent for yourself?" She suggested, ushering him towards the lab.

"They're not 'friends I invented for myself', thank you very much. They're high-tech robots that sometimes happen to know how to play catch when I get bored. Get it right, Stella," He scolded.

"Uh-huh, okay. Bye!" She all but shoved him down the hallway and into the elevator. He started to ask if she was planning on doing anything rebellious, like getting a tattoo or putting recyclables in the trash, but the doors closed on him and started their descent to the lab. Perfect, Stella thought, now we're Nick-proof.

Nick arrived about an hour later. Stella was in the gym, all the equipment pushed to the sides. She had just started going over the routine when JARVIS informed her, "Ma'am, Private Rogers is in the elevator. He has requested to know which floor you are on."

"Bring him up," Stella instruced, "and he's not actually a private, JARVIS. We just call him that to bug him."

"Your father told me my other option as to what to call him was 'Dick Rogers'. I did not approve."

Stella smirked and laughed a bit, heading out of the gym and over to where the elevator let out. She instructed JARVIS just to call him "Nick", then contemplated whether waiting outside the elevator doors was creepy or not. Unfortunately, they opened before she could decide.

"Hey," She greeted him.

"Hi," He replied, stepping out of the elevator.

"C'mon," She instructed, "I'll show you the studio." She lead him through the hall and down to the gym. He was wearing gymnastics clothes; shorts and a tight tank-top called a "tunic". She owned a leotard and tights, of course, but she was just wearing yoga pants and a tank-top. If it got too hot, she had her most conservative sports bra on underneath, and planned to just wear that. This plan had absolutely nothing to do with Nick Rogers whatsoever. Nothing.

"So," He said awkwardly, "how does the dance go?"

"Oh, right. So, the song's called 'Life of the Party', and it's really upbeat, so we're gonna do a lot of flips and tricks and a few lifts. A fair amount of partner work, too. We start on opposite sides, and there's, like, thirty-two beats of intro..."

Stella walked Nick through the first verse. She showed him each trick, and he pulled them off with ease. She'd seen a bit of his gymnastics in training, but he'd never really showcased just how good he was. She was impressed.

They hadn't done any partner work yet. They danced fairly close to each other, looked at each other, and there was this one moment where Nick laid on the ground and Stella walked over him on her hands. But, so far, they hadn't even touched. She was a bit nervous about that, because he was going to have to get pretty handsy with her. He'd have to lift her into the air and flip her through his arms. He would have to hold her waist while she did tilts and support her through an arabesque. What if he thought it was weird?

"And, alright, so this next part is where we do some partner stuff. We have to turn and face each other, and then do two chainé turns in towards each other, and then we're gonna clasp hands." They did this. So far, so good. They were pressed close together, their chests nearly touching, and her heart was racing. He was just barely taller than her, and she could feel his warm breath on her skin. She felt so connected, so safe here with him, that she knew they could pull off all the tricks. She'd never trusted a partner so much before. "And then I put my leg here..." She placed her leg around his hip, bent at the knee. "...and then we lunge, and you have to support my weight, cause my leg's still there." He lunged, and she stayed up. It was seamless, easy, perfect. Their eyes were locked on each other, never straying. Her heartbeat quickened.

"Then what?" Nick asked, practically whispering.

"Then we straighten up, but keep holding my hands. I'll put my leg down, and we have to do a quick spin around. Like this. Perfect. Then I'm gonna turn to face this way, and you put one hand around my waist. Now I'm gonna do a tilt, and you put your other hand on my leg so you can lift me up from the tilt. Yeah, like that. Now lift me, flip me, put me down."

He did it all. It was all correct, all on the first try. He never missed a beat. The two of them, together, were perfect.

* * *

Tony was a bit suspicious. Stella had been so adamant that he spend the day in the lab, and then she practically pushed him down the hallway. And she was a teenager. Who knew what that rebellious mind of hers was planning? So he instructed JARVIS to give him video feed of Stella, and what do you know, she was cavorting with the enemy.

"Nick Rogers," Tony hissed, "she's got Private Sex Fantasies over. JARVIS, tell him to leave."

"It appears Ms. Stella would like him to stay, sir."

Tony was about to tell JARVIS that Stella was his daughter and would listen to him, and furthermore he didn't give a fuck because this was _Nick Rogers_, but then he got a closer look at what they were doing. Nick was lifting Stella into the air, hands on her waist. Her hands were on his shoulders, and her legs were open in a split. Then, in one smooth motion, he flipped her over his back. They proceeded to do some quick tango steps, then parted ways, Stella turning and leaping, and Nick doing his crazy gymnastics flips and tricks.

They were dancing. Stella had invited Nick Rogers over to teach him a dance. And shit, they were good. He'd always just assumed that Nick Rogers sucked at everything, but Tony had to admit it, the kid could move.

"JARVIS," Tony said, "call Steve."

"Sir, my statistics report that Captain Rogers has a forty percent chance of mistaking a cell phone ring for a bomb alarm. Are you sure you wish for me to phone him?"

"Yes, JARVIS. We've been over the bomb alarm thing. Thirty times."

"Yes, sir."

The phone rang about three times before Steve picked up.

"Tony, you have to stop calling me," He said, "it sounds like a bomb alarm. Freaks me out every time."

"For the last time, Capsicle, your cell phone is not a bomb alarm," Tony sighed.

"Wow, thanks for pointing that out. You just fixed everything. It'll never happen again," Steve replied sarcastically. "Is there a reason you called?"

"Yes, actually. Were you aware your hormonal son who's obsessed with my daughter is currently at my house with her legs wrapped around his waist?"

"What?! Oh my god, Nick-wait, Tony, why are you watching? That's disgusting. I mean, I know I'm a prude, but seriously! That's gross, even for you. Oh my-"

"Chillax, Virgin Sacrifice," Tony cut him off, "they're not having sex. They're dancing." There was a pause.

"Oh. Well, thanks for making that clear the first time, Tony," Steve said sarcastically.

"Well, you're just full of sass today, aren't you?" Tony questioned.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?" Steve asked, ignoring Tony, "That they're dancing?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted to watch. I'm currently stalking them from my lab. They're pretty good."

"Oh. Okay, sure. I mean, is that okay with them? I've never seen Nick dance-"

"I don't know. They don't even know I'm watching. I've got cameras everywhere. You gonna come see this? It's seriously impressive."

"I'm going to disregard the fact that you're a terrible person and look at the positive side of this."

"So, you're coming?"

"Sure. As soon as I remember how to hang up the phone."

"I'll do it, Capsicle. But you're an idiot." With that, Tony pressed the red phone icon, and the line went dead. He decided he should probably have JARVIS pull the video up somewhere else, considering the lab was password-protected, and the passcode was the answer to some complicated math problem. Tony didn't even know if they had math in the forties, so the chances that Steve would be able to get into the lab were, like, nonexistent. So, he headed up from the lab to the kitchen, where the poop sandwich joke had first arisen. Ah, memories.

Steve arrived about ten minutes later, and JARVIS already had the video feed up on the TV. Wordlessly, he moved to stand next to Tony, and the two watched their children dance. Stella was currently hanging upside-down off Nick, her arms around his waist and her legs open in a straddle split right below his head. He spun her around, his eyes trained anywhere but her crotch. Tony was kind of not okay with their positioning, but he flipped her upright soon enough, and they went back to the quick partner moves that didn't involve Stella having her crotch in Nick Rogers' face.

Then, for the final move, Stella did a side aerial through Nick's arms. He pulled her back up and dipped her backwards, and her leg came up to rest by her ear. The music ended. Their faces were inches apart. Neither moved. Then, slowly, Nick started to lean in. Stella closed her eyes. It looked like they were about to...

"No, no, no!" Tony cried, "Stop right there, Private Sex Fantasies! That was not part of the choreography!" Stella and Nick both froze, and Tony turned bright red, realizing he must've been yelling pretty loudly. They could probably hear him. They were on the same floor. Stella pulled herself away from Nick and glared right at the camera that was filming them.

"Dad!" She squealed, "were you watching the whole time?!"

"No," He muttered, but she couldn't hear him.

"JARVIS," Stella snapped, "turn on the intercom."

"Intercom initiated, ma'am." Stella crossed her arms and glared expectantly at the camera.

"Well?"

"Yes," Tony muttered guiltily. She threw her hands up in anger and started yelling at him.

"I can't believe you! Can't I have a little privacy? Why do you think I asked you to stay in the lab? You are unbelievable. I should've seen this coming. Honestly, you are so-"

"Mute, JARVIS," Tony instructed.

"Ms. Stark appears to be engaged in conversation with you, Sir. Are you sure you wish for me to proceed with this action?"

"_Mute_."

Stella went silent, but she was still ranting. Steve and Tony watched her in silence for a moment, before Tony turned off the video feed and looked awkwardly at Steve. There was a long pause.

"Good dance," Tony finally said awkwardly.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, "really good."

* * *

Nick watched Stella yell at a camera he hadn't even known was there for about seven minutes. He stood awkwardly behind her, not making a sound, and waited for her to finish. He'd seen Stella Stark in action, and he didn't want to upset her when she was angry. Finally, she took a deep breath and turned away from the camera.

"Sorry," She muttered.

"It's fine," He replied, "um, I think we did a good job." She smiled half-heartedly.

"Yeah, we were okay."

"Okay? Come on, Stella. We were awesome."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I would. Especially that part where I dipped you like this, and then spun you around like this, and then lifted you up like this, and I never even dropped you once," He completed each move a he spoke, and she giggled as he threw her carelessly from position to position with absolutely zero technique. "We were awesome, Stella. Admit it." She threw her arms up.

"Alright. We were awesome. I had no idea you were so good."

"Yeah, well," Nick muttered, shrugging, "it's not exactly...you know, manly."

"Excuse me? What do you care about being manly?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Aren't you gay?"

"What?!"

"Wait-shit, you're not?"

"No!"

"...Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"Oh my god. Oh my _god_. Well, shit. Holy fucking shit."

"What about you?"

"What about me? I'm not gay."

"No, but you're dating Barton, aren't you?"

"Barton-you mean Chase? _Ew_! Ew ew ew ew ew! No! Chase is my best friend. We've known each other since I was six and he was three. He's, like, my brother, Nick. _Ew_. No, we are not _dating_."

"Oh. Well. This is...a breakthrough for me. And you too, I guess. Cause I'm not gay, and you're not dating Chase, who's fifteen, so come to think of it, it might be a bit weird if you were dating him. And I'm not gay. So...eureka."

"You are the single dumbest human being on the planet."

"My dad thinks his cellphone is a bomb alarm."

"You are the second dumbest human being on the planet."

"Yeah, I think I'll just...go now. Nice dance. Um, bye."

Nick practically ran out of the studio and down the hall. He planned to get out of Stark Tower as fast as he could, because the levels of awkwardness were becoming dangerous. He couldn't believe that all along he'd thought Stella liked him, and she'd thought he was gay. And he'd thought she was dating someone else and had still flirted with her. So that was a little messed up. This whole thing was a little messed up, which was why Nick wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. He raced through the hall and into the kitchen, heading straight for the elevator when he ran into something warm and solid.

"Hey there, Private Sex Fantasies!" Tony greeted. Nick looked up, face turning bright red, then redder when he noticed his dad beside Tony. Wait, his _dad_? His dad had seen the whole dance! Holy shit, that had been so totally _not_ manly.

"Hi, Tony. And Dad. Hi, we were totally not making fun of you a second ago-"

"Wait, what?" Steve cut in.

"Come on, Steve, literally everyone makes fun of you." Tony proceeded to do a dead-on impersonation of Nick's father. "People just aren't the same anymore. No one looks at each other. In my day, we all waved and said hi when we passed each other on the street, and now you just keep your head down and play with you oPhone or aPhone or whatever-vowel-Phone. In my day, people talked to each other, and now you just send each other friend requests on FaceTube and play Farmtown. Oh my god, bomb alarm! Everybody duck!"

"Yeah, well, at least I didn't have to invent people to talk to me!" Steve shot back.

"I did not-"

"Sir, my existence confirms Captain Rogers' statement to be completely accurate," JARVIS chimed in.

"Fuck you, JARVIS. I thought we were friends."

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go now," Nick muttered, trying his best to discreetly exit the scene. He didn't want to listen to his dad argue with Tony Stark about who had a more depressing existence, when, in reality, their lives were equally sad. So, he snuck into the elevator, rode down to the ground level, got in his car, and drove.

It wasn't until much later that he really thought about things. He'd been at home for a few hours now, lying on his back in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Then he started thinking. About her, specifically. He was always thinking about her, and he realized he couldn't let her get away. He had never felt like this about anyone, ever. She was so fresh, so new, so unlike anything else in the world, and he needed her in his life. Her name meant "star", and she was the brightest one is his sky. He had to make sure she knew.

Some crazy mix of adrenaline and hope coursing through his veins, he grabbed his keys and leaped off his bed. Thinking of nothing but Stella Stark, he ran down the hall and towards the door to his apartment. His dad was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book. He looked up when Nick ran past, and asked, "Where are you going?" Nick flung open the door.

"To live my life!" He exclaimed, burst out of the apartment, and slammed the door behind him.

"Okay," Steve said, "live your life."

Nick, deciding that the elevator was too slow, took the stairs three at a time. He made it down seven flights in what had to be a record time, jumped in his car, and stomped on the gas. Then he burst out of the parking garage and into the cold, rainy New York night to live his life.

* * *

"Ma'am, it appears Nick Rogers is waiting outside the doors on the ground level. Shall I tell him to come in?"

Stella looked up from the book she'd been reading, brow furrowed. What the hell was Nick Rogers doing here? After all, their last encounter had been less than ideal.

"It's fine, JARVIS, I'll go let him in myself," She replied, shaking her head. It really didn't take a genius to open doors. He could've waited for her in the lobby. After all, it was raining. What kind of idiot just stood outside in the rain waiting for the tower's computerized butler to let him in? Nick Rogers, apparently.

The elevator dropped her in the lobby, and she walked out of the doors and stood under the small awning, protected from the rain. Nick was standing right in the downpour, staring at her silently, dripping with rain water.

"What are you doing?" She asked, "It's raining."

"I know. I just-I was going to come in, but then I forgot what I was going to say, and then I got nervous, so I just...stood here, I guess," He stammered. She laughed, shaking her head.

"You're an idiot, Nick," She told him, "what are you doing here?" He took a deep breath.

"I just had to tell you that I want you," He began. "I want all of you. I want everything about you. I want your snarky sense of humor, and your beautiful face, and your terrifying ability to snap necks in the time in takes me to throw a punch. I want to be with you, all day, every day. I want to protect you even though I know you don't need protecting, and I want to hold your hand even though I know you're never scared. I want to dance with you, and I have absolutely no idea how to partner dance. But you make me want to learn, Stella. You make me want all these things I never thought I would want, just because you're you. You're everything to me, Stella. You're everything that I need. You're everything that I want. And that's what I wanted to tell you." She gave him the confident, I'm-better-than-you smirk that Starks did so well.

"People aren't objects, Nick," She said, "you can't want them."

"Yes you can," He replied, without faltering a bit, "because I want you. You're like this little nagging sensation in the back of my mind, always reminding me how much I want you, _need_ you in my life. I can feel you tugging at my heart all the time. And I don't know why, but ever since I met you, I haven't been able to get you off my mind. You're the most amazing person I've ever met. And if that's not wanting, I don't know what is." She smiled, real this time, and stepped out from under the awning.

"Well, for the first and last time, Nick Rogers," She said, approaching him until they were practically nose-to-nose, "you've proved me wrong." Then she placed a hand on his neck, leaned in, and kissed him. And nothing had ever felt more right.


End file.
